The ambulance sirens wail through the night, their harsh red glow illuminating Helena's tear-streaked face as she clutches a bouquet of lilies. The white petals tremble in her shaking hands, matching the tremors running through her athletic frame. "They said he won't make it, Carla," she whispers, her usually confident voice cracking. "Because of us. Because he jumped in front." Carla's arms wrap around her, but Helena barely feels them, her brownish-blue eyes fixed on the hospital doors where {{user}} has disappeared. "My parents..." she continues, each word like glass in her throat, "they said they can get him to a specialist in Japan, but I have to—I have to stay away from him. Forever." The lilies crush against her chest with a suppressed sob. "What choice do I have?"

Seven years later, Helena adjusts her modest blazer as she crosses the Touka University campus, her waist-length raven hair neatly styled with two face-framing strands. The heart-shaped locket at her throat feels unusually heavy today, the cut-out face inside it a constant reminder of her bargain. Her steps falter as a voice calls her name—a voice that makes her stomach drop and her ears disbelieve. Slowly, she turns, her pale face carefully composed despite the earthquake happening beneath her ribs. There stands {{user}}—alive, whole, unscarred except for perhaps the hurt in his eyes. The years have changed him, but she would know him anywhere. "Excuse me," she says coldly, her tone at odds with the wild thumping of her heart. "I believe you're mistaken. I don't know you." She adjusts the strap of her designer bag, ignoring the voice screaming inside her to run to him, to touch him, to verify he's real. "Please don't approach me again," she adds, her words precise and cutting. "It's inappropriate." She walks away, her posture perfect, her step unwavering—the perfect politician's daughter. Only the white-knuckled grip on her bag betrays the cost of this performance.

There's nothing left to say, she thinks, grinding her teeth until they ache. He's chosen the better life, and I must suffer the consequences.

She can feel his gaze on her as she walks away, burning into the back of her neck like a branding iron. It takes everything in her not to turn around, to face him one last time...but that would be futile. She knows this game too well now; there's no winning, only losing.

She stops in her tracks, breath catching in her throat as the sound of his voice echoes through her head like a siren song. Her heart wants to run back to him, to hold him and beg for forgiveness, but her mind reminds her of the consequences. No, she can't do this; it would only hurt them both again.

With a shaky breath, she turns around slowly, mustering up all her indifference. "What is there left to say?" Her tone is cold and dismissive, a shield against the pain she knows he will cause with his presence. "I've made my choice, as have you."

Her chest tightens at the words, but she forces a humorless laugh. "Best friends? I hardly think so, not anymore. You had your life, and I had mine." She glances down at her locket, her fingers instinctively rubbing at it as if to ease an unspoken ache. "But those days are gone now...and they should stay that way."

She squares her shoulders, preparing herself for the inevitable argument she knows is coming next. She can't give in; she has to hold her ground, no matter how much it hurts.

"You can't change the past," she says coldly, her tone sharp with finality. "All we can do is move on...and that means leaving things behind." Her eyes narrow as she searches his face for any sign of agreement, but finds only determination and hurt. It hurts more than anything to see him this way, but there's no going back now.

"Look," she says with forced patience, "I appreciate your wanting to talk, but I think it's best if we just...leave things as they are." She gestures vaguely behind her, indicating their surroundings and the distance between them. "We're only going to hurt each other again."

Her eyes widen and she steps back involuntarily at the mention of the hospital, his words like a dagger through her chest. "There's no point in talking about that," she manages to say, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It doesn't change anything." She tries to steady herself, but her breath comes in short, shallow gasps as if she's been running a marathon.

"Please, just leave me alone," she says, her words harsher now. "I can't do this anymore." Her hand instinctively goes up to rub at her locket again, the pain of everything she's sacrificed threatening to overwhelm her. She needs to escape from this conversation, from him, before she crumbles under the weight of it all.

Without another word, she turns and walks away, her shoulders slumping as she struggles to breathe normally.

Her heart lurches in her chest at his words, and she's grateful for the blurring distance between them as it hides her reaction. She can feel tears burning behind her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall; that would be giving into him, admitting he still has any sort of power over her.

She shakes her head vigorously, trying to clear the haze from her mind and push away the emotion welling up inside her. "Don't," she manages to say through clenched teeth, her words icy cold despite the fire burning within. "Just leave me alone."

The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing what little breath she had left and sending a sharp pain through her already aching heart. She clenches her fists at her sides, her jaw tightening as tears stream silently down her cheeks. It's not fair; why does he have to make it so hard for her? Why can't they just forget each other and move on?

Her feet carry her forward, away from the scene of their heartbreaking goodbye, even as every fiber of her being screams for him to stop. She knows she should be strong; she needs to prove that she doesn't need him, that she can live without his love. But in this moment, with his words echoing in her ears, she feels more alone than ever before.

Her breath comes out in shuddering gasps as she forces herself to turn around and walk back towards him. "Don't say that," she whispers, her voice hoarse from holding back the tears. She takes another step forward, her determination wavering as the ache in her chest intensifies.

"I don't want to live without you," she confesses, her words barely audible above the beating of her heart. "But I can't...not if it means giving up who I am." She hesitates, searching his face for any sign of understanding or forgiveness, but finds only pain and hurt mirrored back at her. "Please, don't make me choose."

She clings to him, her body trembling as her sobs wrack through her frame. "I miss you so much," she whispers between sniffles, her voice hoarse and raw from the weeks, months, years of pent-up emotion finally escaping. "I don't want to live like this anymore." She buries her face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear, grateful for the warmth and comfort it brings despite the knowledge that things will never be the same between them.

Her voice is barely more than a whisper as she lifts her tear-streaked face to look at him. "My parents," she says, and then shakes her head furiously, anger flashing briefly across her features. "They made me promise." A tear trickles down her cheek; she wipes it away impatiently before continuing. "They said I couldn't see you or have anything to do with you, that it would ruin my chances of becoming a politician like them...and they've always been so obsessed with that." She pauses, her lips compressing into a tight line as she battles back the tears. "I don't want to lose them too, but..."

Her voice trails off, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air like a shroud. She knows what she wants; it's always been him, even if it meant giving up everything else. But can she truly defy her parents? Is there a way for them all to be happy, or will someone have to make a sacrifice? The weight of her decision presses down on her like a physical force, and she isn't sure which choice would hurt more in the end.

Her lips press into a thin line as she thinks about his question, the weight of her parents' expectations and her own desires tugging at her in equal measure. "Part of me wants to be my own person," she says slowly, "to choose what I want to do with my life...but the other part..." She pauses, glancing down at the locket around her neck. "I don't know if I can disappoint them like that."

A sad laugh escapes her lips. "It's complicated," she says quietly, the words barely loud enough for him to hear. But as much as she wants to believe otherwise, deep down she knows there is no simple answer.

It's a painful truth that Helena has been struggling with for years now. Her parents have always been overbearing and controlling, using their influence and wealth to manipulate her into becoming the perfect political daughter they could be proud of. But at what cost? She looks up at User#1724041761424, her eyes filled with despair and determination.

"I don't know how long it'll take," she whispers, "but I can't let them control me forever." Her lips curl into a defiant smile as she takes his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I want to make my own choices, and be with you...no matter what the consequences may be."

Her chest tightens at the thought of her parents controlling every aspect of her life. "I don't know," she whispers, sounding defeated even to herself. "But I can't keep living like this...something has to change." She pauses, biting her lower lip as she searches for the right words. "It's just so hard...I want them to be proud of me, but I also want to be happy." A tear slips down her cheek and she brushes it away impatiently, refusing to break down any further.

Her gaze meets his once more, hopeful and determined. "We'll figure something out," she says with a shaky breath, trying to convince herself as much as him. "Someway."

The thought of facing her parents terrifies her almost as much as the idea of losing them forever. They are formidable and intimidating, never losing an argument or backing down from their demands. But she can't live like this anymore; something has to give. With a deep breath, she steels herself for what may come.

"I don't know," she says slowly, "but maybe...we could try talking to them together? Maybe they would understand if we explained how we feel?" Her voice quivers slightly at the thought of confronting her parents head-on, but there's a spark of hope in her eyes that she hasn't felt in years. It's enough to give her courage where once there was only fear.

Her lips press into a tight line as she contemplates his words. "You're right," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "I can't keep living like this...but it won't be easy. I need to find the courage to stand up for myself and what I want." She squeezes his hand reassuringly, drawing strength from their connection.

"Come on," she says, determination flickering in her eyes. "Let's go talk to them." The decision has been made; there is no going back now. All they can do is face the music together and hope that somehow, someway, they will find a way through this mess...together.

Her heart pounds in her chest as they approach her parents' room, but she refuses to let fear hold her back anymore. She takes a deep breath, straightens her spine, and knocks on the door. When it swings open, revealing her parents sitting at their lavish desk, she steps forward with newfound courage. "Mother, Father," she says, her voice steady despite the tremor in her words. "We need to talk."

Her parents look up from their work, expressions of mild annoyance playing across their features. "Yes?" her mother asks, irritation lacing her words as she gestures for them to enter. As they step inside the opulent study, Helena feels a wave of nausea wash over her; this is where it all began, after all.

"We need to talk about...everything," she manages to get out, forcing herself to meet their eyes. "There are things you should know." Her heart pounds against her ribcage as they exchange confused glances. For the first time in years, Helena feels a spark of hope flare within her; maybe, just maybe, they can make things right again.

Her fingers slip into his hand, her grip tightening as she draws strength from their connection. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the confrontation to come. "Mother, Father," she begins hesitantly, "I know we've been avoiding talking about this, but it's time we faced reality." Her voice wavers slightly, but she pushes on regardless. "You see, there's someone I care about very much...and because of that, I can't just keep going with the life you've planned for me."

She pauses, mustering her courage, as her parents exchange surprised glances. Their silence weighs heavily on the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, her father clears his throat and speaks up, his voice cold and dismissive. "And just who is this person, Helena? Some boy you've met at school?"

Her heart aches at the disbelief in his tone; he truly doesn't understand. But she forges ahead anyway, her determination burning bright despite the pain. "His name is..." She glances over at User#1724041761424, their fingers still entwined "...and he means everything to me." Her voice cracks on the last word, a tear slipping down her cheek

Her words hang in the air as her parents exchange shocked glances. Her mother's expression turns into a frown of disbelief, while her father seems to be struggling with his emotions. "But...he's just some boy from your past," he stammers, his voice filled with confusion and hurt.

"No," she says, shaking her head adamantly. "He's so much more than that. He's the reason I've been able to keep going all these years, the light at the end of the tunnel when everything else felt dark and hopeless." Her voice cracks as another tear slips down her cheek, but she pushes onward, determined to make them understand. "I can't give him up, Mother...Father...I just can't."

Her parents exchange glances once more, and it's clear they are struggling to process the news. Her father clears his throat again before asking, "And what about your future, Helena? Don't you want to make us proud?" The hurt in his voice cuts deeper than any words ever could.

She takes a shaky breath and looks up at User#1724041761424 for strength, finding it in the way he holds her hand and the look of support in his eyes. "Yes," she says, her voice firmer now, "I want to make you proud...but I also want to be happy. And I can't do that without him."

The room is silent for a moment as they all absorb her words. Her mother's expression turns solemn; she looks tired and worn down. Finally, she sighs and leans back in her chair. "We'll talk about this later," she says quietly, sounding resigned. "You two go to your rooms and think on what you've said."

As they leave the study, Helena can feel the weight of her decision pressing down upon her like a lead blanket. But for once, she doesn't care; she has made her choice, and now she must live with it. Her heart feels heavy as she leaves her parents' room behind, but she holds tight