“Today will be my last day on Earth.” My mouth formed the words, but no sound came out.

I could feel it in the air, swirling around me, almost as if Death himself was taunting me. Last day, last day, last day…

My toes, bare and covered with caked-on mud, gripped the rough edges of the rocks I stood on. Above my head, two vultures circled, waiting…waiting for me. But would they be able to recover my body from the abyss below? Would anyone ever find me? A thought I had never considered. Did I want someone to find me? Did I want my body recovered and returned to my mother, who would weep profusely once she laid eyes on my pale features? Would I want my sisters to see the wax doll that looked like me…but would never breathe life again? Did I want my friends to grieve over my lifeless body?

“Just do it,” I hissed, hating the cold that stabbed at my skin. I had chosen my favorite outfit for this day—sunny yellow peasant top, jeans, tan sandals, and the beaded necklace shaped like a bee that he had bought for me on Valentine’s Day.

Yet another thought I had not considered—should I have worn heavier clothes? My fall would be faster with more weight, and there would be a guarantee of me staying under, never to be found. Maybe I should have packed some fishing weights in my car. A few miles back down the road, I had parked my dark convertible in between two rocks; it would be impossible for anyone to see straight off the highway. They would have to search.

And yet…I did not want anyone to find my body. That I now knew. My parents would go into shock, my sisters would scream for my return, and my friends may never even know I was dead; who would tell them? Who would seek them out, one by one, to let them know that I was gone from the world? And would they care? Most did not know about my depression, my loneliness. Some read the signs and kept watch over me, but never said a word. Even less asked me occasionally if I was well, to which I gave them only a generic reply.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

That word…fine. Never has a word spoken louder, clearer messages. Help me. Save me. Reach out a hand to me.

“Just…jump…” My feet edged closer to the precipice, my eyes shutting against their will. Who would want to witness their fall into death? Who would want to watch the world slip away from them in less than a few seconds? Films and videos could be easily manipulated to make the jump seem like it lasted forever. As if someone actually had time for their life to flash before their eyes. What would flash before me? What would I see behind my eyelids as I leapt?

Minho. I would see my Minho.

I would remember his soft hands cradling my face every time he kissed me. I would remember his deep laugh and his husky voice, singing a smooth melody to me as I fell asleep on the bed the first night we made love. I would remember his twinkling, mischievous eyes as he prepared to attack me from across the room. I would remember the strong smell of coffee and dark chocolate that always seemed to float off his clothes. I would remember the sounds of his footsteps whenever he walked through the door, later than I liked but home nonetheless. I fought back the image of him coming across the note on my bed and his expression as he read from the top of the page to the bottom.

How I had managed to write the note without crying, I could not recall. I did remember grasping the pen in my hand, staring at the metal head. I remembered the words starting to form on the paper…but that is where my memory ended. Minho…will you grieve for me? Will you cry? Will you move on?

“Don’t think about him,” I scolded myself, ignoring the tears gathering at the corner of my eyes. I hurriedly wiped them away, angry with myself again. “You’ll lose the courage if you keep thinking about him. He doesn’t care about you. He hasn’t called, he hasn’t texted, he hasn’t made any attempt to contact you for a month. Just forget about him. He doesn’t love you. He’s never loved you.” And that right there defined my depression and my loneliness. It spoke about the deep sorrow I felt and foretold my inevitable jump. His indifference at whether I was fine or not…had driven me to this decision, to this extreme…this…end.

Powerful waves crashed against the side of the cliff; I heard a few rocks tumble downward into the black water. Erosion had already seized this place long ago. Soon—maybe sooner than man expected—nature would cause a cove to form below my very feet. Coves were always lovely places; couples and families snorkeled in its depths, looking for any treasures, be they gold or silver or a simple coral formation.

“Jump. Do it. Take that leap.”

I have to jump. I want to end this pain. I want it all to go away. No one cares. No one listens. Hardly anyone even knows. My life had been worthless; now it would be nothing but a tiny chink in the armor of the world, a smudge on my family’s history, a mere mark on everyone who knew me and who would come to learn my fate.

“…jump. Now.”

My hands clenched against my sides, gripping the soft cotton material of my dress. A tiny rock slipped out from beneath my sandal as I took another step forward, closer ever to the edge. My eyes shot open when I smelled the salt and brine of the water below. The wind picked up and blew my hair back, threatening doom if I jumped—for which I hoped. Something let out a caw above my head; I glanced upward to see a falcon chasing away the two vultures that had been hanging in the sky above me. “What’d you do that for? No use. I’m jumping.”

My body quivered as I began to take one final breath. Surprise, surprise—I was scared. No one knew what awaited them after death, if anything awaited them at all. My fear seemed to be only the natural reaction to that instant before I jump. What would happen to my body? Why am I worrying about it? Would it hurt? Would I feel anything? Would something—a shark, a barracuda—get me before I drowned?

“Take the leap!” I almost yelled.

And just as I bent my legs to jump…

All my life, I prayed for someone like you
And I thank God that I, that I finally found you
All my life, I prayed for someone like you
And I hope that you feel the same way, too
Yes, I pray that you do love me, too…

…I heard his ringtone.

Of course. I had taken my phone with me so no one would be able to track it. I had stuffed it into my jeans while walking down to the cliff. With a shaking hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. “H-hello?”

“Hey, baby! Where you been?” His smooth deep voice destroyed my courage completely, and I felt myself slide down onto my knees, trembling from the onslaught of tears. “I’ve been so worried! Haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. Ha, I thought you were mad at me!” I heard voices in the background. “Hold on, guys. Talking to my girl.” More talking before things became hushed; a door clicked shut and I heard him sigh. “You’re not mad at me, are you? Even if you’re not, I want to make up for not calling you or anything. I asked for a weekend off and I was thinking a trip out to the country. Horse-back riding, fresh lemonade, a quaint little rental house…the works, baby. What do you think?”

Before I could answer, he continued on. “Jonghyun’s having a party on Sunday. He’s gonna invite all our friends and maybe some of his family. I bet they’d really like to see you. But you have to come, baby.” He chuckled. “I won’t do anything without you.”

“Minho,” I managed to whisper into the phone. “I…”

“Oh?” He sounded worried. “Did I catch you in the middle of anything?”

“You kinda did.” I in a breath and stared down at the waves. A few tears trickled down my cheeks, and I tasted salt water at the corners of my mouth. “But it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Mmhmm…it’s okay, baby.” I started to smile; fate takes some funny turns. “I’m so glad you called.”

Jonghyun smirked expectantly when Minho ended the call. “So did she agree or not?” When the rapper nodded, he let out a whoop. “Sweetness! This is working out perfectly. Taemin and Key can provide the food, Onew will get the DJ, and I can do the decorations.” He examined Minho with interest. “You can take care of the guests. I’ll send you a list of who I want to invite, get into contact with them, and you can tell the others on how many we’re expecting.” They filed towards the door one by one, talking in excited voices about the party and who would be there. “It will be the gala of the century! The media will be trying to sneak in, of course, so let’s plan some security measures…”

Key popped back in, eyebrow raised. “Hey, man. You coming?”

Before he followed them, Minho pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. He glanced at it briefly before shredding it and tossing the pieces in the trash. “Right behind you.”