Chapter 19: The Moment the World Tilted
Lily had already died once.
So she thought she understood fear.
She was wrong.
It was supposed to be ordinary.
A late afternoon charity meeting—heirs only—held at one of the Blackwood Group's auxiliary buildings near campus. Lily attended as a future shareholder, half-listening, half-doodling on her tablet.
Noah sat beside her, calm, composed, fingers occasionally brushing hers under the table.
She teased him quietly.
"Relax, CEO Blackwood. You look like you're about to acquire the room."
He smiled faintly. "Only if they deserve it."
She rolled her eyes, comforted by his presence.
That was the last moment before everything went wrong.
The sound came first.
A sharp crack.
Then shouting.
Then chaos.
The glass doors at the far end shattered as a delivery truck skidded out of control, slamming into the building's side entrance.
People screamed.
Security rushed forward.
Lily didn't think.
She stood up—
And the ceiling gave way.
"Noah!"
Her scream ripped from her chest as debris crashed down between them.
Dust swallowed the room.
Someone pulled her back, but she twisted violently, eyes frantic.
"Noah—Noah!"
She couldn't see him.
Her heart stopped.
This wasn't the comic.
This wasn't fate.
This was him.
Minutes stretched like hours.
Lily shook uncontrollably, nails digging into her palms as she fought through security, through the dust, through her own terror.
She found him near the fallen beam.
Alive.
Blood trickled from his temple.
Conscious—but dazed.
Her knees gave out.
She collapsed beside him, hands trembling as she touched his face, his chest, counting breaths like a prayer.
"You're okay," she sobbed. "You're okay—please be okay—"
Noah's eyes focused slowly.
The first thing he saw was her crying.
"Lily…" he rasped. "Why are you crying?"
That broke her.
At the hospital, she refused to leave his side.
Doctors said it was minor. A concussion. Some cuts.
But Lily sat rigid in the chair, fingers locked around his, heart still racing like she'd barely survived a storm.
Noah woke fully hours later.
The room was quiet.
Lily's head was resting on the edge of the bed, her grip unbroken.
"Hey," he murmured.
She jerked up instantly.
Relief hit her so hard she laughed—and then cried again.
"I thought," she whispered, voice wrecked, "I thought I'd lose you."
Noah's throat tightened.
"You wouldn't," he said gently.
She shook her head fiercely. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that."
Then she said the thing she'd never allowed herself to say out loud.
"I don't know how to exist in a world where you're gone."
The room stilled.
No sarcasm.
No deflection.
Just truth.
Noah reached up, cupped her cheek with surprising strength.
"Lily," he said quietly, "I'm not leaving. I promise. Not in this world. Not in any version."
She pressed her forehead to his, breathing him in like oxygen.
"I love you," she whispered.
Not teasing.
Not playful.
Real.
His eyes softened completely.
"I know," he said. "I've known for a while."
She huffed weakly through tears. "Arrogant."
He smiled. "Engaged heir privilege."
She laughed, then kissed him—slow, careful, like she was still afraid he might disappear.
That night, Lily understood something terrifying and beautiful.
She hadn't just fallen in love.
She had anchored herself to him.
And for the first time since waking in this comic world—
She didn't want an escape.
She wanted a future.
With Noah.
Always.