I was released after ten years in prison, and I didn’t even go home. Instead, I went straight to book my sea burial.

“Miss Amberlight, this is your arranged sea burial service. After death, your body will be released into the ocean. A deposit is required first, and the remaining balance must be paid within half a month.”

I just nodded. My hands started shaking as I pulled a plastic bag out from my worn jeans. Inside was everything I had saved over the years, crumpled bills and loose coins, all earned from scraps and labor inside prison. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the deposit, barely.

I handed it over like I was handing away the last piece of myself.

They told me I had a month left.

Stage late stomach cancer, no treatment left, no second chance.

Funny how life doesn’t wait for you to be ready to die and all I could think about was him.

Arkin Wattson.

We had once promised each other something stupidly beautiful, a wedding in a seaside chapel where the waves would be our witness and the whole world would finally believe in us. He said even the ocean would bless us, and I believed him back then, I really did.

Now I was just arranging to return to that same ocean alone.

Isn’t it ironic. Or maybe it’s just cruel.

After I left the burial office, I needed money. The remaining balance wasn’t small, and no one hires someone with a record and a body already halfway gone. So I ended up at a seaside resort perched on a cliff, the kind of place where the ocean looks endless and expensive, where dreams are sold in white and gold.

They gave me a uniform, simple, clean, and forgettable. No real instructions, just a quick rundown before pushing me to start that same day. After a short training, I was assigned to housekeeping and room service, moving through corridors that smelled like fresh linen and sea salt, carrying trays, cleaning spaces that didn’t belong to people like me.

I kept my head low. I didn’t want to be seen. Didn’t want to exist more than necessary.

That was when everything broke open again.

The suite sat on the highest floor, a private cliffside room soaked in golden sunset light. Beyond the glass walls, the ocean stretched endlessly, beautiful in a way that felt almost cruel.

I pushed the service cart inside, slow and quiet.

'Just do your job. In and out. Don’t look up.'

Laughter filled the room, light and effortless.

Then I heard it.

That voice.

“Make sure everything is exactly how I want it,” Arkin said, “The chapel by the sea. White and pink roses everywhere. Not a single detail off.”

I froze. My fingers tightened around the tray.

No... That couldn’t be.

Slowly, I lifted my head and there he was.

Arkin.

Sitting by the glass, the ocean behind him like it belonged to him. Surrounded by people who laughed too easily. Ten years had passed, yet nothing about him felt different. Still sharp. Still untouchable. Still far beyond anything I could reach.

But what made my stomach drop wasn’t him alone. It was who he was holding.

Trixie.

My so-called sister.

She rested in his arms as if she had always been meant to be there, smiling softly while he spoke about their wedding.

“If the designer messes up your dress again, I’ll throw it out,” he said. “You don’t even need to see it. I’ll have them redo everything until it’s perfect. I just want you happy.”

Trixie laughed, “You always say that. What if I change my mind again?”

“Then I’ll change everything with you.”

My throat tightened.

A wedding.

His wedding.

With her...

My mind slipped back ten years without permission, dragging me with it.

I was so close back then. So close to becoming his wife.

We grew up together. He walked me home in the rain. I patched his bruises when he came back from fights he never explained. We survived everything side by side, like it meant something permanent.

When my parents died, he stayed. He stayed when I couldn’t even breathe. So how did it end like this?

Because I killed his father.

The memory hit like a wave that never stopped.

That night carved itself into my bones. He cornered me, eyes red, voice shaking as if he was barely holding himself together.

“Dahlia,” he cried. “Tell me why... Please, just tell me the truth. There has to be a reason. You wouldn’t do this for nothing.”

I remember laughing or maybe it was something breaking inside me.

“There’s no deeper reason,” I said. “Your father saw me with someone else. He said he’d tell you. I lost control. That’s it.”

Silence.

Then his face changed, slowly and completely.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t beg. He just looked at me like I had already died.

I still see that look when I close my eyes. Like I’m trapped behind glass, watching myself decay while he walks away.

After that sent me to prison and I let him.

What was I supposed to say? That I was protecting someone else? That the truth would destroy more than just him? Or maybe I just didn’t think I deserved to be believed anymore.

Ten years inside.

Ten years asking the same question.

What if I told him the truth?

Would it have changed anything?

The memory tightened.

That night destroyed everything.

Arkin’s father had long struggled with severe depression and paranid disoder. The kind that didn’t sit quietly but rotted everything from the inside out. On the night before my wedding, he had a breakdown inside one of the private estate rooms. He mistook a bodyguard for his wife’s lover, someone he believed had ruined his marriage. In that broken state, he crossed a line he could never come back from. He killed the man and buried the body in the backyard.

I was there to discuss last-minute wedding details with Arkin. I remember standing in the hallway, frozen, seeing everything I was never meant to see.

I couldn’t move.

When it ended and reality came crashing back, his father broke. He fell to his knees, shaking, begging me not to tell anyone.

“Please,” he kept saying, voice cracking. “You don’t understand what this would do to him. To the family. Just… please. I didn’t mean for any of this.”

I should’ve walked away.

I should’ve told the truth.

But I didn’t.

All I could think about was Arkin. What this would do to him. What it would destroy.

So I said yes.

I agreed to stay quiet.

I left the estate in a state I couldn’t describe, hands cold, chest hollow. Somewhere along the road, everything got worse.

His father drove after me in a panic, maybe guilt, maybe fear. His car crashed into mine.

That became the story.

A tragic accident. Wrong place, wrong time.

And I stood there… and let it become truth.

The silence that followed wasn’t peace... It was punishment.

Arkin’s world stayed perfect on the outside. Polished. Untouchable. Built on legacy and power. If the truth ever came out, it wouldn’t just break him. It would destroy everything his name stood on.

So I took it.

All of it.

I let him hate me so he could keep living without being shattered by something he never should’ve carried.

That was the choice I made.

That was my so-called love.

Now my body is already failing, so there’s no point undoing anything. If he hates me, fine. Let him. At least I can disappear without dragging him into it again.

The waves crashed harder against the cliffs, like they were trying to tear the world apart.

I turned slightly, gripping the edge of the service cart, ready to leave the suite quietly. The way I learned to exist here. Unseen. Unnoticed. Temporary.

But before I could take another step, a voice cut through the air behind me.

“Dahlia? Wait… is that really you?”

My entire body went still.

“You’re out?”

My body locked up.

Then someone shoved my shoulder from behind, careless, laughing. I lost my balance and slammed into the low glass coffee table in the center of the suite.

Bang!

Glass shattered across the marble floor.

The tray slipped from my hands. Bottles crashed. Expensive wine bled into the carpet like something wasted on purpose. Pain shot through my palms as shards cut into my skin, and I hit the floor hard enough to knock the air out of me.

For a second, all I could hear was the ocean outside.

Then the room burst.

Laughter filled the suite instantly, sharp and loud, echoing against the glass walls overlooking the cliffs. Familiar in the worst way.

People stood up around me like I was part of the entertainment. Something unexpected that made their night better.

“Oh wow, it really is Dahlia! Trixie's older sister,” one of them said, dragging my name out like it tasted wrong. “You got out and your first job is here? At a resort like this?” He laughed. “Damn, life really humbles people, huh?”

I didn’t answer.

I pressed my hand harder against my bleeding palm and tried to breathe through the sting.

Another voice joined in, lighter but just as cruel. “Look at her. Still acting all quiet. You’d think ten years in prison would’ve fixed that attitude. Wait, how come this criminal even has a job here? She should just be sweeping the streets!”

They laughed again while I stayed on the floor.

Getting up felt pointless.

Then a colder voice cut through the noise. It's Arkin.

“What are you doing just lying there? You broke expensive liquor. Do you even know what those bottles cost?”

I swallowed, forcing my voice to work.

“I’m s-sorry,, Mr. Wattson,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to knock it over. I can’t afford it, but I’ll figure something out. Just… give me time.”

A scoff.

“Time?” Arkin's friend chime in, “You think this is a charity? Dahlia, you really haven’t changed. You still don’t understand your place.”

More laughter followed, louder now, feeding off each other.

“Alright,” he said slowly, a smile forming that didn’t reach his eyes. “Since you work here now, entertain us a little. Dance.”

The word hung in the air.

“Dance for us.”

“Yeah, come on.”

“You broke the drinks. Make up for it.”

“Don’t be shy, Dahlia. Show us what ten years taught you.”

My face burned.

Not just from humiliation. From something heavier. Deeper. Like my body was too tired to even hold onto anger anymore.

I could feel eyes on me from every direction. Weighing. Judging. Enjoying.

And then I felt it. A gaze that didn’t laugh.

Arkin.

I didn’t have money. Not even close. I could already see how this would end. The man in front of me wasn’t just angry about broken bottles. He was using me. Turning me into something small for everyone else to step on.

People like him never stopped. They just found new ways to make it worse.

Ten years in prison had already stripped away whatever dignity I once had. So when my vision blurred and I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, I pushed myself up slowly. My knees shook. My hands were still bleeding.

The music shifted. Someone turned it up for fun.

And I moved.

Not gracefully. Not beautifully. Just enough to follow the command. My body stiff, hollow, like I wasn’t even inside it anymore.

Laughter rose again.

“Look at her! Fuck, she dance like a slugs.”

“This is just sad.”

“Guess prison didn’t fix anything. You know what Dahlia, ask your sister Trixie to teach you. She's a great danc—”

BANG!

The coffee table flipped violently.

Glass scraped across marble, sharp and sudden, and a voice cut through everything.

“ENOUGH.”

The room went silent.

Before I could react, a hand closed around my arm, strong and unyielding. I was dragged out of the suite, my feet barely keeping up as the noise behind me faded, replaced by the distant crash of waves.

The hallway was dim, quiet and colder.

Then I was shoved back against the marble wall.

The impact knocked the breath out of me again.

Arkin stood in front of me.

Close.

Too close.

Close enough that I could feel the weight of everything he never said.

“Dahlia,” he said, voice cold and controlled, “are you seriously degrading yourself like that in front of everyone?”

My back pressed into the wall. A shiver ran through me. Slowly, I turned my head to look at him.

“You shouldn’t have stepped in,” I said quietly. “How is your father supposed to rest after this?”

Something in his expression shifted.

He shoved me harder.

“You think I did that for you?” he snapped. “I pulled you out because I’m making a deal. Not because I care what happens to you.”

He stepped closer. His voice dropped, quieter but cutting deeper.

“You need money, right?”

The words hit exactly where they were meant to.

“Then listen carefully. You’ll stand outside my room tonight. You don’t leave. You don’t speak. I’ll pay you. More than whatever job you think you can survive on here.”

Before I could respond, he pulled out a stack of cash and threw it straight at my face, hard.

The bills hit my cheek and scattered to the floor.

My skin stung as I stood frozen, warmth rising where it struck.

Arkin didn’t wait. He turned away like I wasn’t worth another second.

....

That night, I stood outside his room without moving.

Inside, I heard them.

Trixie’s voice first, soft and amused. Then Arkin’s, lower, blending with hers until it filled the hallway like I didn’t exist at all.

I stayed there until morning.

When the door finally opened, Arkin stepped out, adjusting his sleeves like nothing had happened.

Trixie followed, smirking when she saw me still there.

“Clean the room,” Arkin said flatly.

I went in.

The place looked like a battlefield of luxury and carelessness. Sheets twisted. Glasses scattered. The air heavy with something I refused to name.

I knelt anyway. Hands shaking as I wiped the floor in silence.

Trixie leaned against the doorway, watching me.

“Wow, sister! You’re still alive,” she said lightly. “That’s kind of surprising.”

I didn’t answer.

She smiled faintly and glanced at Arkin.

“Are you really keeping her around?”

“She’s useful,” Arkin said without hesitation. “And she won’t be here long anyway.”

Trixie laughed softly. “Good. Before the wedding, make sure she disappears. I hate looking at her.”

…

For the next few days, wherever Arkin and Trixie went, I followed.

Dinner. Private gatherings. Cliffside parties filled with people who wouldn’t even look at someone like me twice. I was always there, standing behind them. Quiet. Invisible. Unless they needed something.

Or unless Arkin wanted something.

Every time someone raised a glass, he’d glance at me like it meant nothing.

“She’ll drink it.”

And I did.

Glass after glass. No pause. No refusal.

At first, people laughed it off.

Then it kept going.

“Arkin, that’s enough,” someone would say, “She’s already had a lot.”

He’d smile faintly, eyes cold. “What? You think she can’t handle it? Dahlia, tell them. You can, right?”

I’d nod. “Yeah. I can.”

Even when my stomach twisted. Even when my throat burned raw.

By the end of it, I’d be in the bathroom, gripping the sink, throwing up everything until there was nothing left. Just dry heaving. Shaking.

Then I’d go back out.

Because if I didn’t, it would only get worse.

At dinners, it wasn’t any better.

He’d sit beside Trixie, relaxed, untouchable, while I stood behind her chair like I belonged there.

“Dahlia,” he’d say casually, “peel the shrimp for her. She doesn’t like getting her hands dirty.”

I’d do it.

“And the fish,” Trixie would add, “take the bones out properly this time. Last time you missed one.”

“Okay,” I’d answer quietly.

Then Arkin again, almost bored, “Wipe her hands after. She’s not used to this kind of inconvenience.”

Trixie would laugh softly.

“Arkin baby, you’re spoiling me too much,” she’d say but she never stopped me.

Not once.

Sometimes she’d look at me, eyes sharp, satisfied.

“Careful, sister. Don’t mess up. You know how clumsy you can be.”

I didn’t respond. I just kept doing everything they asked.

Even following her to the restroom. Standing outside like something no one hired but everyone used. And in front of everyone, Arkin treated her like she was everything.

Holding her hand. Brushing her hair back. Leaning close when he spoke.

Things he used to do with me.

After every event, when it was all over, he’d walk to his car, pull out a thick stack of cash, and toss it at me without looking.

“Your pay for today,” he’d say flatly. “Count it if you want. I don’t short people.”

The money would hit the ground more often than not. Dirty. Wrinkled. Sometimes stepped on.

I’d still bend down and pick it up. One by one. Carefully. Like it mattered more than anything.

Because it did.

I needed it.

Just a little more.

Once I had enough, I could pay off the sea burial. Then I could disappear completely. No body. No trace. No Dahlia.

Isn’t that better for everyone?

On Trixie’s birthday, Arkin went all out.

A massive banquet, the kind people talk about for years.

The entire venue was covered in roses, endless rows of them, soft and overwhelming, like something out of a dream I didn’t belong in.

I heard someone say it cost millions just for the flowers.

Of course it did.

This was Arkin.

He didn’t do anything halfway.

Trixie walked in beside him, holding his arm, smiling like she owned the world.

She wore a custom outfit, something elegant and expensive, and I heard whispers that it was designed by Arkin’s mother herself.

For her future daughter-in-law.

They looked perfect together.

Too perfect.

And I stood somewhere in the background, holding a tray, pretending I didn’t exist.

For a second, my mind slipped back to our engagement.

It had been just as grand. Just as beautiful.

Everyone smiling, everyone watching us like we were the ending of a perfect story.

Arkin had held my hand the same way and looked at me the same way.

Like I was everything.

He’d taken out a ring, something passed down in his family, and slipped it onto my finger.

“You’re mine now,” he said back then, voice softer than I had ever heard it. “And I’m yours. No matter what happens, we don’t walk away from each other. Okay?”

I had nodded like I believed it would last forever.

I really did.

The noise around me snapped me out of it.

People talking, not even bothering to lower their voices.

“Can you believe Dahlia had the nerve to show up here? She's a criminal!”

“Seriously, she and Arkin grew up together. He treated her like a princess, gave her everything, and she still destroyed his family.”

“I still don’t get it,” another one said, shaking their head. “He loved her so much. Everyone knew it. Why would she do something that stupid?”

“Because she’s heartless,” someone else cut in. “People like her don’t think. They just ruin everything.”

“If that never happened… they’d probably have a kid by now. Maybe even in school already.”

Another scoff.

“Don’t even try to make sense of her. She doesn’t deserve that kind of understanding.”

“Yeah,” someone added, harsher, “someone like her should just disappear.”

“Honestly? She should just die.”

I heard all of it. Every word. And I didn’t react and didn’t defend myself. Because what was the point? They weren’t wrong about one thing.

I was going to die soon anyway. And this time, I’d make sure when I left… there wouldn’t be anything left behind.

…

After the banquet, Arkin stayed behind to send off his guests, still smiling, still perfect in front of everyone.

Trixie and I waited by the lake near the entrance, the cold air settling into my bones while everything finally went quiet.

It was the first time we were alone since I got out.

For a while, she didn’t say anything, just stood there, staring at the water like she owned even the silence.

Then she spoke.

“Sister… do you know something?” her voice was soft, almost sweet, the kind that pretended to be kind while hiding something rotten. “I’ve always loved Arkin. Not recently, not after you disappeared. I mean before. Even before you got together with him. Funny, right? You just… got him anyway.”

I didn’t answer.

She let out a small laugh, tilting her head.

“Back then, you two looked so happy,” she continued, “and I told myself to let it go. I thought maybe if I stepped back, I could still be your sister, still be part of your life. I even told myself I’d bless you both. God, I was so stupid.”

She finally turned to look at me, and this time there was no softness left, only something sharp and ugly behind her eyes.

“But then you ruined everything!” her tone tightening. “You destroyed him! Do you even know what he went through after that? Or were you too busy playing the victim somewhere? Do you have any idea how broken he was?”

Her lips curled slightly.

“I was the one who stayed with him. Me. I was the one who helped him calm down, who stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep, who picked up every piece you left behind.”

Her voice dropped lower, almost mocking.

“And now you’re back. Why?” she asked. “Why show up again when things finally started to settle? Why can’t you just stay gone for once? Or is ruining things the only thing you’re actually good at?”

I looked at her, really looked at her, and it felt strange.

All those years, she was beside me, smiling, calling me sister, and I never knew she had been looking at him like that the whole time.

Or maybe I just didn’t want to know.

What was the point now anyway?

I wasn’t here to take anything back. I wasn’t here to fight for anything. I was already leaving.

“Trixie,” I said quietly, “I’m leaving soon.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes like I’d just said something embarrassing.

“Leaving?” she repeated. “You expect me to believe that? Please. You always say things like that, Dahlia. Always acting like you’re some tragic heroine about to disappear. But you never actually do, do you? You always come back and make everything worse.”

Before I could respond, she suddenly slipped the ring off her finger.

The ring.

The one Arkin gave her.

Then she threw it straight into the lake.

The sound was small, barely anything, but it echoed loudly in my head.

“Opps! You dropped my ring, sister. Shouldn’t you go get it? Or is that too much effort for you now?”

I frowned slightly.

“I didn’t throw it,” I said.

But she just smiled wider, “Does it matter? You’re the one standing here with me, aren’t you? And we both know how this looks.” Her eyes flicked toward the path. “If Arkin sees it’s gone, who do you think he’ll believe? Me… or you?”

Before I could say anything else, footsteps approached.

“Arkin! My sister pulled off my fing and threw it on the lake.”

Arkin came into view fast, eyes already dark with anger. The moment he saw me, he grabbed my wrist hard.

“Dahlia, are you fucking crazy! What does Trixie’s ring have to do with you? Why would you throw it away? Are you that desperate to cause trouble?”

I looked straight at him.

His anger burned, but beneath it, there was something else, something I didn’t want to understand. Was he expecting something from me? Jealousy? Regret?

Did he really think I still had the right to feel those things?

A bitter feeling rose in my chest, but I forced a small smile.

“Why would I care about a ring like that?” I said quietly. “To me, it’s not even worth as much as the cash you throw at me.”

Something in his eyes went cold instantly and before I could react, he shoved me hard.

SPLASH!