I opened my eyes after he left. Tears slid into my pillow, silent, useless. I knew the truth. I didn’t have much time left. Aplastic anemia was eating me alive, slow and patient.
I forced myself out of bed later. Every step hurt. I went to the closet and dragged out an old dusty box hidden in the back.
Inside was my whole life with him.
Movie tickets from our first date. A cheap bracelet he bought me at a night market when he still smiled like a normal man. Polaroids from trips before blood, guns, and deals replaced love.
In every photo, I was smiling.
And his arms were always around me.
My chest felt tight. I spent the whole night going through that box, touching every stupid little thing like it was the last time I’d ever get to. By dawn, I dragged the box outside and lit a small brazier. One by one, I threw the memories in the fire.
The flames were climbing when a voice cut through the air.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Before I could even move, my twin came storming at me and shoved me hard. The brazier tipped, hot coals flying everywhere. A few landed on my arm. I gasped, pain ripping through me.
“Miya—” I stumbled back, clutching my arm.
She didn’t even slow down. She lunged at me, eyes burning with that fake hurt she always wore. “If you don’t want me here, just say it! Why are you burning my stuff?”
Her voice was all venom wrapped in sugar, but I saw it. The satisfaction.
The yelling drew Fredrinn out. He ran up and grabbed her like she was the one in danger, shoving me back without even touching her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
She clung to his chest, trembling, tears already streaked down her cheeks. “Fredrinn, she hates me so much she started burning my stuff! Look at it! She doesn’t want me here!”
His eyes hit me for the first time in weeks, and I froze. But it wasn’t love I saw. It was disappointment.
“Lesley… how could you? After everything she’s done for you, after she agreed to help with your treatment… this is how you treat her?”
I felt my throat tighten. Couldn’t breathe. I bent down and picked a charred scrap from the ashes, a corner of a photo. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
“Look at this,” I said, voice breaking. “These aren’t her things. They’re mine. Our memories.”
The photo was from last winter. Fredrinn had wrapped his scarf around me, my cheeks red, my eyes bright.
For a second, he froze. “Why… why would you burn these?”