Unveiling the Lover's Deceit

The evening air carried a strange stillness as I stepped onto the terrace of our estate. Something felt wrong. The pool glimmered under the moonlight, its surface unusually calm. Then I saw it—a shadow floating motionless near the center.

"Asher?" My voice cracked as I rushed toward the pool. No response.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I realized he wasn't swimming. He was floating, face-down, completely still.

Without thinking, I dove in.

The shock of cold water stole my breath. I'd forgotten to remove my prosthetic arm—the weight of it immediately dragged me down. Panic surged through me as I fought to stay afloat with only my left arm.

"Asher!" I screamed, the sound muffled by water as I struggled toward him.

When my fingers finally touched his shoulder, relief flooded through me. He was still warm. I grabbed him under his arms and kicked desperately toward the edge of the pool.

"Help!" I shouted, my voice barely carrying across the vast garden. "Someone help!"

No one came.

I pulled harder, my left arm burning with effort. The prosthetic on my right side was useless, heavy and unresponsive in the water. We inched forward, inch by agonizing inch.

Then the first jolt hit me.

Pain exploded through my body like lightning. My muscles seized, and I cried out—swallowing water in the process. The pool had been electrified.

"Asher!" I gasped, coughing and sputtering. "The water—it's—"

Another jolt, stronger this time. My vision blurred, dark spots dancing before my eyes. Still, I held onto him, dragging us both toward salvation.

"Not... letting go," I whispered through gritted teeth.

The current intensified. Every nerve in my body screamed in agony. My heart stuttered, then raced dangerously fast. I could feel it failing, each beat more labored than the last.

With one final surge of strength, I pushed Asher's body onto the pool's edge. His head lolled to the side, water streaming from his mouth. I reached up with trembling fingers to check his pulse.

There. Faint but present.

"Thank God," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Then everything went black.

---

Beeping machines greeted me when I opened my eyes. White ceiling. Antiseptic smell. Hospital.

"She's awake," someone said softly.

A woman in a white coat appeared in my field of vision. Dr. Elena Rodriguez—I recognized her from previous visits.

"Anne," she said gently, "you're in the hospital. You've been unconscious for three days."

I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw. Dr. Rodriguez offered me water, supporting my head as I drank.

"What happened?" I managed to ask.

"You suffered severe electrical burns and cardiac damage," she explained, her dark eyes serious. "The current was strong enough to stop your heart. If the emergency response hadn't been so quick..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence.

"Asher?" I whispered.

"He's fine. Just some water in his lungs. He's been discharged already."

Relief washed over me. At least he was safe.

I drifted in and out of consciousness as