Kill Me for His Mistress

The pressure of the seawater felt like countless hands, tightly gripping my drysuit. The flashlight beam cleaves the deep blue; 200 meters beneath the sea, it's so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat. I am Willow Diamond, and today I intend to break my personal record for diving depth. The oxygen cylinder hangs heavy on my back—both a burden and a comfort. This gear was personally checked by Samuel White. He is my fiancé and our team's diving instructor. The junior colleague Luna Lopez was still smiling yesterday, promising to prepare a surprise celebration for me. I steady my breathing and slowly ascend, reaching the scheduled decompression stop. I reached out to touch the decompression cylinder, but my fingertips encountered not metal, but a soft, crumpled wad of paper. My heart plummeted as I tore off the cylinder cover. Inside, there was no compressed air—only a jar filled with intricately folded paper stars, their colors drifting gently in the seawater. It was Luna's handwriting, taped to the jar's wall: "Willow, I hope you'll 'stay forever' in the deep sea." My mind went completely blank; the decompression procedure is a diver's lifeline. Without decompression gas, the body risks decompression sickness caused by nitrogen embolism—mild cases cause dizziness, severe cases paralysis, or even death. The seawater temperature seemed to plunge instantly. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to adjust my posture. With every meter I ascended, my joints felt like they were being stabbed by needles. My vision blurred, and a buzzing roared in my ears. I knew I couldn't panic. I had to trust my instincts and inch my way toward the sea surface. At last, I spotted the shadow beneath the boat. Summoning my last strength, I pounded on the hull. Heads appeared over the deck—Samuel and Luna. They lowered the ladder. Samuel reached out to pull me up, his voice tinged with impatience: "Why so slow? Everyone's waiting for the celebration." I had barely climbed onto the deck when I stumbled and fell; my leg had gone numb and completely lost feeling. "My decompression cylinder... has been swapped." Gasping for breath, I pointed at the empty tank behind me. Luna's eyes instantly welled with tears; she rushed over and grabbed my hand. "Willow, I'm sorry! I only wanted to surprise you—I never meant to mess up... It wasn't intentional." Samuel frowned, crouched down to examine the cylinder, then looked back at me. "Willow, aren't you overreacting? Luna was just joking around—are you really pretending to be sick?" "Pretending to be sick?" I couldn't believe my ears, trembling all over in pain. "I nearly died out there in the sea!" "Alright, alright," Samuel interrupted, his tone laced with reproach. "Don't make such a fuss. The celebration banquet is ready—don't ruin everyone's mood." Luna was still sobbing beside me: "Willow, I truly know I was wrong. Please, don't be angry with Samuel, okay?" I stared at Samuel's cold, indifferent face, then at Luna's fake, tearful eyes. A chill crept up from the depths of my heart, colder than the seawater below. I clung to the boat's gunwale, trying to stand and reach for the first aid kit. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through my chest, and darkness closed in on my vision. I knew it—Decompression Sickness was hitting me. I fumbled for the emergency distress button in my pocket; the team provided it uniformly, and pressing it would contact coastal rescue. Just as my fingers touched the button, Samuel suddenly came over and grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?" His eyes were cold and dark. "I'm calling for help..." I struggled. But he snatched the distress device from me and pressed several buttons with his fingers. The red signal light extinguished in an instant. "Stop making a fuss," he said, slipping the distress beacon into his pocket. "This minor issue can be treated with the ship's medicine. No need to alarm anyone else." I stared at him, utterly stunned. He clearly knew that delaying treatment for decompression sickness could be fatal. Luna stood behind him, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips.