The night was dark, the evening breeze cool.
After his mother turned and left, Ethan took out a fruit knife from the drawer and climbed onto the windowsill, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Clutching the knife, it felt as if he had lost all sensation, unable to feel the pain as the blade cut through flesh and skin.
Blood from his palm dripped down his fingertips, each droplet glistening in the light, strangely beautiful.
Looking up at the stars in the sky, each one shining brightly, the night sky filled with stars like a sea of lights.
Rocking his legs, he hummed a birthday song, his voice hoarse and lazy, yet magnetic. Fans loved this kind of voice.
“Wishing myself a happy birthday… wishing myself a happy birthday…”
It was 11:45 pm, just fifteen minutes left of his birthday.
All the information about his debut, besides his name and gender, was fake. So on his actual birthday, no one could wish him a happy birthday, not even his biological parents who had forgotten today.
Tomorrow would be Aoife’s birthday.
The only regret Ethan had was not being able to celebrate a birthday with Aoife in person and say, “Happy birthday.”
Blinking his dry eyes, facing the distant twinkling lights, those flickering lights resembled candles on a birthday cake. “Happy birthday, Aoife. Also, wishing myself a happy birthday today…”
Sitting on the windowsill, he felt as if he could fall off at any moment.
Ethan had a fear of heights and would never sit at such a height under normal circumstances.
For his first time up there, it felt better than he had imagined. The cold wind seemed to pass through his body, momentarily freeing his suppressed spirit, elevating his mood, his grip on the fruit knife tightening, almost sinking into it.
Ethan loosened his grip slightly, pointed the knife at his heart.
The surroundings were silent, with only the lonely sound of the wind and his heartbeat.
At 11:49 pm, Ethan decisively plunged the knife into his heart, body spasming, falling from the windowsill.
The night wind, cold yet gentle, brushing past, like a gentle hand caressing the tears at the corner of his eyes.
He smiled, his dimple showing.
He let out a painful groan, carried away by the wind, the chilly night air billowing through his clothes.
The wind that night was truly strong… strong enough for him to feel as though he had grown wings, gaining freedom.
It was his birthday after all, so he made a wish,
“I pray to the gods, may I be a kind person in the next life, may the one I love live in joy and peace, free from sorrow and pain, and filled with sweetness.”
“Aoife, in the days without me, you must live happily, trading my death for your strength, your courage, your direction, a bright life…”
We will meet again in the next life, may we both have our wishes fulfilled and lead ordinary lives.
The last vision in his mind was Aoife taking the ring from his hand and saying, “I do.”
Aoife… Aoife, I want the rest of your life to be full of joy, carefree like the “clear” wind always smiling. With me gone from this world, there will be one less person named Ethan on earth, but a new star will shine in the sky, the star will always be there, and so will Ethan.
“Ethan.”
“Ethan.”
“Ethan…”
-“I, Ethan, am meant to ‘make a splash.’ How could such a small setback defeat me?”
-“Aoife, I want to give you a home…”
*Bang*
Mother and son’s hearts entwined, Mrs. Johnson felt a dull pain in her chest, an unknown fear amplifying infinitely, until the trembling servant who had gone outside returned with those words.
“Madam, it’s the young master… the young master, he jumped off the building, his body… his face covered in blood…”
Mrs. Johnson seemed to have lost all sensation, like a marionette with cut strings, collapsing on the ground, her knees hitting the floor with a dull thud, the sound painful to hear, yet there was no change in her expression, eyes empty, face numb.
When a person is consumed by extreme fear, they don’t scream, they become silent.
Mrs. Johnson staggered to her feet, running and crawling out, the cool night air hitting her face, relieving her muddled mind slightly.
Her slippers were lost as she stepped on the cobblestones in the yard, the sharp edges causing pain, numbing her heart along with her feet.
Her brain, like a crashed computer, was unable to think, unable to register the pain from the outside world. She was like a machine out of control, running on pure inertia.
Mrs. Johnson suddenly halted at a corner, there on the stone slabs under the streetlight lay Ethan covered in blood.
The third-floor window was wide open, the wind blowing the curtains, and from that height, he should have only sustained minor injuries, not leaving so much blood, not staining his clothes red…
Mrs. Johnson’s legs gave way, kneeling on the ground, then slowly… inch by inch, crawling towards him.
Others would be horrified to see this scene, but she wasn’t, because the person lying there, drenched in blood and unmoving, was her son, her Ethan.
She went over, facing the blood-soaked Ethan with unknown injuries, unsure how to embrace him without causing pain.
However, what she didn’t know was that at that moment, Ethan no longer felt any pain.
“Ethan…” Mrs. Johnson choked out, “Don’t scare Mom…”
She gently patted Ethan’s still warm shoulder, then, like a rusty robot, tremulously turned Ethan over. When she saw the knife lodged in his chest, Mrs. Johnson’s pupils constricted, a painful cry escaping her mouth.
She leaned down, arms open, holding Ethan tightly, her face against his blood-stained face.
“Ah… ah…”
Ethan had ended his life in two ways, not only jumping off the building but also plunging a knife into his own heart. The force of his fall had pushed the knife deeper, leading to instant death.
How desperate was he? How much pain was he in to commit suicide in such a way?
She remembered, her son was afraid of heights, he had always been terrified of them since he was young…
Even from the third floor, looking down, he would be afraid.
People were talking around her, it was noisy, but Mrs. Johnson couldn’t hear, she had locked herself in her own world, hugging Ethan tenderly, as if she were holding him as a child.
How long had it been since she had voluntarily hugged her son? She never expected that the next embrace would be under these circumstances, in such a situation.
Tears streaming down her face, Mrs. Johnson gently wiped the blood from his face.
Tears fell one by one, landing on Ethan’s face, unable to wipe away the blood stains.
She thought: if only she had remembered that today was Ethan’s birthday earlier, and said, “Son, happy birthday,” would he not have died?
If when his father was hitting him, she, as his mother, had intervened, would Ethan still be alive?
In a brief moment, Mrs. Johnson recalled the past, those old memories buried deep within her, now resurfacing vividly, showcasing the most painful moments in her mind.
-“Mom, I’ve fallen for someone. Maybe she doesn’t come from a privileged background, maybe she doesn’t have a great education, but I love her. Can I bring her home?”
“Of course, as long as you love her.”