**TITLE: The Perfect 374**
**Ella’s POV**
The world around me felt unsteady, as if the very earth beneath my feet had become a shifting mirage. It was only the sudden warmth of Alexandry’s embrace that grounded me, his arms encircling me with a strength I hadn’t fully appreciated until that very moment. His presence was a beacon of comfort amidst the storm of despair swirling in my mind.
Liam was slipping away. The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless; he was succumbing to the relentless grip of that wretched curse that had haunted him for too long.
And we were utterly adrift, with no inkling of where those elusive artifacts lay hidden.
“You can’t… You can’t sign it!” I gasped, the words tumbling from my lips in a frantic rush, barely coherent. “Please, you can’t sign it—they have to resuscitate him!” My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage as I implored him, the urgency of our plight clawing at my insides like a wild beast.
When I dared to look up at Alexandry, I noticed the tension etched into his features, the way his jaw clenched tightly. It was a familiar sight, one I had seen too often; the mask he wore when reason eclipsed his emotions. He had donned a shield, one that kept the warmth of his heart at bay, leaving only the chill of cold logic in its wake.
“The doctor said he has a week, maybe even less,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper, yet the weight of his words felt like a leaden anchor dragging me down. “Do you really think we can break the curse in time, or will we just make him suffer needlessly during his final moments?”
The truth of his words settled heavily in my chest, a burden I didn’t want to bear. I couldn’t respond, not because I lacked an answer, but because deep down, I knew he was right.
Margaret was still missing, nowhere to be found. The artifacts that could potentially save Liam were lost to us, and we were left grasping at straws, desperately trying to hold onto hope. We didn’t even know if breaking the curse would truly save him—or Alexandry.
I had witnessed the horrors that could befall patients as fragile as Liam when doctors attempted to resuscitate them. I had seen healthy, strong men shattered by the brutality of CPR, their consciousness flickering in and out like a dying flame, lost in a haze of pain and confusion until death finally claimed them.
But Liam was already so frail. His body was a mere shadow of its former self, weak and brittle, and if the curse had marked him for death, it would take him, regardless of the doctors’ efforts. It wasn’t the cancer that was killing him; it was the curse itself.
If he was destined to leave us, then I couldn’t bear the thought of his last moments being filled with agony and humiliation. My friend deserved so much better than that.
Yet, a flicker of hope ignited within me. Signing the order didn’t have to mean that Liam would die. Perhaps there was still a chance to break the curse in time.
“Let me go with you, at least,” I implored, my voice trembling as I fought to keep the desperation at bay. “I need to see him.”
“Of course. You have every right to be there,” Alexandry replied, his tone softening, a hint of understanding glimmering in his eyes. He carefully disentangled himself from my embrace, ensuring I wouldn’t collapse the moment he let go. “We’ll go right now.”
As I followed him out the door, my body felt like a marionette with its strings cut, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Time had lost all meaning; one moment we were in the house, and the next, we were in the car, and then—just like that—we were stepping into Liam’s hospital room.
The sterile scent of disinfectant barely masked the more visceral odors of blood and vomit that lingered in the air. Liam looked like a deflated balloon, his once robust frame now reduced to little more than skin stretched over bone, barely recognizable beneath the thin blankets. The tubes and monitors seemed to siphon his life force, leeching away the very essence of who he was rather than sustaining him.
My heart shattered at the sight, the urge to crumple overtaking me. Somehow, I managed to stagger to his bedside. Just as I began to sink into a chair that hadn’t been there moments before, I grasped Liam’s limp, bony hand and pressed it to my lips, my tears falling like icy crystals onto his unfeeling, papery skin.
“You can’t go, Liam,” I whispered, pressing his hand to my forehead, rocking back and forth in a desperate rhythm. “Hold on for just a little longer… Just until we can save you…”
In the background, soft voices floated through the air, and when I looked up, I saw Alexandry and the hospital doctor standing in the hallway. The doctor’s expression was sympathetic as he handed Alexandry a clipboard and a pen.
Taking a deep breath, Alexandry steeled himself, and with a heavy heart, he signed the paper.

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