I fell in love, yes, love at first sight, when I first saw him from the balcony of my apartment next door. But his body was covered in scars. At that moment, I saw him staring blankly at the setting sun, slowly disappearing over the horizon. The evening light illuminating his face looked so beautiful, even though his skin was covered in scars. Seeing this, I began to remember the last few days—the sound of screams and cries—and realized that it was all coming from him.

As I was about to speak to him, suddenly a harsh voice came from inside the apartment. "Hey! Get in here before I hit you!" Liam shouted angrily, and he flinched upon hearing Liam's voice and hurried inside. At that moment, our eyes met, but because of the panic, he didn't say anything and just went inside. That was when I learned his name.

Since that day, every time I returned from work, I would deliberately stand by the balcony, waiting for him to come out, but he never did. After a few days, the screaming from the next apartment became even more terrifying. I heard him pleading and crying, and Liam's furious voice, his mind clouded by alcohol. The sound of shattered glass, screams for help, and pleas were clear at that moment.

He tried to run toward the door, managed to open it, but Liam was faster, slamming him against the wall and throwing him to the floor. Liam intended to kill him, slashing his throat, but before things got worse, I arrived because the door was slightly open and finally entered, witnessing the scene. I charged at Liam, beating him before rushing to him.

"Damn! DAMN IT!! Hold on, do you hear me??!!!" I scooped him up, rushing him out of the room, calling for an ambulance, grabbing anything to stop his bleeding. "Hold on, you can't die!! Not now, not ever!! Hold on, please."

It was the first time I cried, holding him tightly until the ambulance finally arrived. At the hospital, the doctor frantically tried to save him as he hovered on the brink of death. He was taken into surgery to stabilize his condition. A few times, he lost his heartbeat, but thanks to the doctor's efforts, he was finally saved.

After some time, his condition started to improve, and he was allowed to go home after three weeks of hospitalization. From that day on, I took him away from that apartment to a better place, far from the trauma. I've been by his side ever since, taking care of him patiently, even though he often suffers from depression and sudden panic attacks. I approached him slowly, making him believe I would never hurt him. Though it was a long struggle, he gradually softened and began to trust me.