Even in the taxi to the bridge, I could feel my heart beating hard against my chest. Everything felt blurry. The driver said something at one point, but I didn't catch a word. I couldn't remember his face, his voice, or how long the ride even took.
All I remembered was the cold air hitting me as I stepped out of the car and started running.
The bridge looked different at night — darker, emptier, like the world had gone quiet just to watch. We had driven past it so many times, but I had never walked on it before. My slippers slapped weakly against the pavement as I ran, breath shaking, hoping I was wrong.
Hoping the person who called wasn't really him.
But he was there.
Adrian stood at the edge, hands resting on the railing, the wind catching his shirt lightly. His posture was still, too still, and for a moment I froze, terrified.
"Don't do it!" I yelled, my voice breaking in the cold air.
