The drop would split her head open, it would smash her bones like dry twigs. Fear gripped him, dread, indecision. He must act, but how? If he grabbed for her she might jump or slip over.
The waterfall going over the edge, to the pebbled beach below, sounded deafening, as he tried to reason with her.
‘Giselle, please don’t.’
‘This child in my belly stands between us, and it always will. You will have to look at it every day. It could be son. What then?’
‘Boy or girl, it will be our child, not his. Children come out of love, not violence.’
‘You must forget me, find another. I am finished.’
No, you can’t do this. If you do, it will be the end of me.’
He came alongside her and held out his hand. ‘Take it. If you decide to jump, you take me with you.’
‘No.’
‘You may as well, for with you gone, I do not wish to keep living. If you fall, I will follow you. I swore we would never be parted, and we won’t be.’ He took a step closer to the edge and held out his hand. ‘You have a wound Giselle, and in time, it will heal. Stay with me, please, let us face this together.’
Lyall’s mind was screaming, ‘grab her,’ but it had to be her choice to live.
‘Take my hand,’ he said quietly, ‘for the love I bear you, take my hand.’
She stared up at him, her eyes awash with tears.
‘Giselle, my love for you is true and it is steadfast. I will be by your side, always, in life, and in death, if needs be. So, which is it to be? My fate is in your hands.’