The water swallowed me in seconds. I gasped, but my breath got stuck as the freezing water closed around me. By the time I surfaced, Arkin had already turned away.

“I don’t care how you do it,” he said without looking back. “Get the ring.”

Then he grabbed Trixie’s hand and walked off.

Just like that.

No hesitation and no second glance.

The wind cut through the wet fabric clinging to my body, and the lake was half frozen, thin sheets of ice floating around me.

Even looking at it from above would’ve made anyone step back but I was already in it.

The mud at the bottom was sharp, broken pieces hidden under the surface, cutting into my feet every time I moved. I bit my lip and dove down.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The water blurred everything, and my body started to go numb, but I kept searching, hands moving through the dark, through the cold, through the pain that didn’t even feel sharp anymore.

Just empty.

Time passed, but I couldn’t tell how much.

Hours, maybe.

The sky shifted slowly toward morning at some point, my blood had spread into the water, faint red swirling around me every time I moved.

But I kept going, because I knew if I didn’t find it, it wouldn’t end here.

Finally, my fingers brushed against something small.

Cold metal.

The ring.

I held onto it like it was the only thing keeping me from sinking completely.

When I got out of the lake, I could barely feel my body anymore.

Everything hurt, but also didn’t.

I walked back, dripping, shaking, and found Arkin again.

I held the ring out to him. He glanced at me, frowning slightly, like my state was inconvenient.

Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out cash, and threw it at me.

Same as always.

No words that mattered.

No questions.

Just money. I picked it up quietly, one bill at a time, my hands still trembling.

Then I left.

Because that was all I was supposed to do.

…

For the next few days, Arkin didn’t make things harder for me. No orders, no humiliation, nothing, and it felt strange, too quiet, like something was waiting. I almost thought maybe he was done with me, maybe I could just save enough, finish the sea burial, and disappear. Was it really going to be that easy? I should’ve known better.

That day, when I got back and stepped out of the car, I saw it immediately. Thick smoke wrapping around the villa. My heart dropped. Arkin. The thought hit before anything else and I ran without thinking. He hated noise, hated people, so the staff only came when he wasn’t home, and these past few days he stayed inside. Which meant he was alone.

“Arkin!” I shouted, rushing in as the heat hit me. The fire had spread fast, but I knew the place well and pushed forward, coughing, until I reached his bedroom. He was there, collapsed on the bed, completely unconscious. The air was heavy with smoke, and the pills on the table told me enough.

“Arkin, wake up,” I said, shaking him, but he didn’t move. “Don’t do this… you can hate me all you want, just don’t die like this, okay?”

I dragged him up, forced him onto my back, and moved toward the door. Every step got heavier, the fire growing, the way out almost blocked. Heat pressed in, my breathing uneven, and then something cracked above me. A burning beam fell. I didn’t think, I just turned and covered him. Pain exploded through my back, my vision went white, and I almost collapsed.

But I didn’t.

I looked at him, still breathing, still alive, and something in me refused to give up.

“Just hold on,” I whispered. “You don’t get to leave like this. Not before me.”

I forced myself forward, step by step, through heat and smoke and pain, until somehow we made it out. We collapsed onto the lawn, cold air hitting my lungs as I coughed, my body shaking, everything hurting at once. I barely had strength, but I still pushed him away from me.

Trixie ran toward us. Of course she did. Always there when it mattered. I used the last of my strength and shoved Arkin toward her.

“Take him,” I said weakly. “When he wakes up… tell him you saved him. Just say it was you. Don’t tell him I was there.”

She froze, staring at me.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused. “Why would you say that? Dahlia, what are you trying to prove now?”

I shook my head.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I just… don’t need him to know.”

She grabbed my arm, her eyes narrowing.

“Then answer me,” she said. “Did you kill his father on purpose? Was it really you, just like everyone says?”

My body went still. For a second, everything came back, the truth, the lie, everything I carried. Would it even matter now? Would he believe me? Or just hate me more? What’s the point?

After a long pause, I gave the only answer that kept things simple.

“Yes.”

Her grip loosened. I walked away without looking back.

In the days after that, Trixie stayed by his side, taking care of him, never leaving. When he learned she “saved” him, everything shifted. He treated her better, softer, closer, like she mattered more than anyone. Maybe she always did.

At night, standing outside his door, I could hear them. Her laughter. His voice, low and gentle, the way it used to be with me. Words that weren’t mine anymore. I leaned against the wall, eyes closed, pretending I couldn’t hear it, pretending it didn’t matter.

Maybe he really did fall for her. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.

Good. He should’ve had this life from the start.

I looked at my hands and let out a quiet breath. So this is it, huh? You really don’t belong anywhere anymore.

The wound on my back still burned from the fire, sharp with every movement, but I didn’t tell anyone. When no one was around, I’d quietly put medicine on it, teeth clenched, trying not to make a sound.

Because it didn’t matter.

I was already halfway gone anyway.

…

That day, as always, I stayed in the small room they gave me. It wasn’t really a room, just a space I didn’t belong in. I took off my coat, sat down, and was about to apply medicine on my back when the door suddenly slammed open.

Arkin’s mother.

Of course it was her.

Her eyes dropped straight to my back, to the burns I’d been hiding, and her expression shifted instantly, anger and fear colliding at once.

“What happened to your back? Those burns… Dahlia, what did you do?”

She stepped closer, unable to accept what she was seeing, then stopped right in front of me.

“Was it you?” she asked. “Did you save Arkin that day?”

I froze.

My first instinct was to stand, to cover it, to make it disappear. I quickly pulled my clothes back on, hands unsteady.

I didn’t know why she was here. I didn’t understand why she looked like that, as if she was holding herself together by force.

For a second, I almost told her the truth. Almost.

But then everything came back.

The money, the hate, the sea burial I was still chasing, the way Arkin looked at me like I was a mistake that never ended.

So I forced a smile instead. A wrong one.

“What do you mean save him?” I said lightly, brushing it off. “You’re overthinking it.”

Her eyes narrowed.

I shrugged.

“This?” I added, touching my back like it meant nothing. “It’s nothing. I got it in prison. Fights happen there. Men don’t really like sharing space, especially when there are women involved.”

I let out a short laugh, hollow and controlled.

“Some of them got strange, fighting over attention, over nothing. I was just caught in the middle.”

Her face changed instantly.

Anger. Disgust. And disappointment sharper than both.

Her hand shot forward and grabbed my wrist.

“Dahlia,” she said through clenched teeth, “do you even hear yourself? After everything Arkin went through for you, this is what you say? You’re still like this? Still filthy, still shameless?”

Her grip tightened.

“Do you have no heart at all?”

I couldn’t breathe properly, but I still managed a small, strained laugh.

“What do you expect from me?” I said. “You already decided who I am a long time ago.”

She shook me slightly, voice rising.

“So what, you just sleep around? After everything between you and Arkin, after everything he gave you, this is what you became?”

My throat tightened.

I shouldn’t have spoken.

But I did.

“Arkin was never just one thing,” I said slowly. “He’s not the only one who mattered in my life.”

Her expression snapped completely.

That was it.

She shoved me away hard, as if I was something she couldn’t stand touching anymore.

“Disgusting,” she said coldly. “You’re absolutely disgusting. Loving you was the biggest mistake of his life, and honestly, mine too for ever tolerating you.”

She turned sharply.

“And don’t ever stand in front of him again.”

Then she left.

The door slammed.

Silence rushed back in, heavier than before.

I stayed where I was, slowly sliding down until I sat on the floor.

So this was what I wanted, right?

For her to hate me.

For everyone to stop looking at me like I still existed.

Then why did it feel like something inside my chest was being pressed down, slowly breaking?

Like something was still bleeding even though nothing should have been left.

I exhaled.

“It’ll pass,” I told myself quietly.

It had to.

....

Later, Trixie showed up.

She always did things like that, acting like she belonged everywhere, especially where I didn’t.

“Get in,” she said, tossing me the car keys. “Arkin said you need to run an errand. I’m driving.”

I didn’t ask why.

I just followed.

The car ride started silent, but her energy shifted quickly, restless, too controlled.

She tapped the wheel once, then again, then laughed under her breath.

“You know,” she said, glancing at me, “it’s funny. You always look so tired. Like you’re already halfway gone.”

I didn’t respond.

Her smile widened. “Do you ever think about that?” she asked. “About just disappearing? Or are you still too stubborn for that?”

Before I could answer, she slammed the brakes, hard and fhe car jerked to a stop. She then opened the door and ran out.

“Help!” she screamed, voice instantly soft, broken. “Someone help me!”

Then she collapsed right in front of the car.

Footsteps rushed in immediately.

Arkin. Then Arkin’s mother.

Trixie lifted her head slightly, weak, and perfect.

“Arkin…” she whispered, glassy-eyed. “Don’t blame Dahlia, please. Don't blame my sister… she didn’t mean it…”

Then she coughed blood. Arkin’s mother dropped beside her instantly.

“Trixie! Stay with me!” she cried. “What happened? What did she do to you?”

The bright red blood hit Arkin’s mother’s eyes first, and I saw it immediately, that look, the same one she had the day everything fell apart years ago, cold and sharp like I had already been sentenced without a word.

Her gaze locked on me, then snapped as she stepped forward.

“Dahlia,” she said, voice rising and trembling with rage, “you really never change, do you, who were you messing with this time that you’d do something like this to Trixie?”

Her hands shook as she pulled Trixie up and held her close, as if protecting something fragile.

“Stay still, sweetheart, stay with me,” she kept saying, panicked but forcing control. “Don’t talk, just breathe, okay?”

Then she shoved Trixie into the car and got in herself, the engine roaring alive.

“Dahlia,” he said, “what did you do this time, why is she on the ground like that?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, and I didn’t even know what I was supposed to explain.

Before I could try, Arkin’s mother snapped, slamming her hand on the steering wheel as she lost control.

“I don’t care anymore,” she hissed. “Dahlia, you should die!”

The car surged forward, and bang.

My body rose then dropped hard.

For a few seconds I stayed conscious enough to feel it but not enough to understand it. Then everything went white.

---

I dreamed first, and that was the strange part.

I was back in a car, younger, hands gripping the wheel too tightly. My heart race like I might ruin everything just by existing, while Arkin sat beside me, softer then, not like this.

“Dahlia,” he laughed faintly, “relax, you’re not gonna crash, okay, I’m right here, just drive slowly.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t trust myself,” I said.

He leaned closer, calm and steady.

“Then trust me,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Then the dream shifted. His seat was empty, and suddenly he was outside the car watching me with red eyes.

“Dahlia,” he said again, but this time it wasn’t gentle. “Why did you do this, why do you always ruin everything?”

The engine roared louder, and he stepped forward as if he was the one coming for me now.

---

I woke up choking on air I couldn’t fully take in, staring at a white ceiling that smelled of antiseptic. Pain spread everywhere like it owned my body.

My chest felt crushed inward, and every breath dragged like glass through my ribs, until a nurse came in, checked briefly, and spoke without looking at me.

“You’ve got multiple broken ribs,” she said flatly. “Don’t move too much.”

Then she left, and that was it, no questions, no concern, just another case.

I stayed staring at the ceiling for a long time after that. Arkin didn’t come, not once, but I didn’t expect him to because he already decided what I was, and I was still here anyway.

---

When I left the hospital, the world outside had already moved on without me. Arkin and Trixie were preparing for the wedding.

Of course they were, and somehow I was still part of it, just not as anything important, only something to be used.

Arkin didn’t even look at me when he spoke.

“You’re coming with us,” he said simply. “Every step. Don’t disappear, Dahlia, I want you to see it.”

Trixie laughed beside him, leaning into his arm like she belonged there completely.

“Oh, I like that,” she said sweetly, then glanced at me. “You should come, sister, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a good view.”

Her smile sharpened slightly.

“And don’t act like you don’t deserve it.”

I didn’t answer, so I followed.

I watched everything, the dress selection, the venue, the photos, Arkin standing beside her like he had always belonged there, while Trixie laughed too loud, touched him too often, and glanced at me like she needed proof I was still standing.

Sometimes she leaned closer and whispered only for me.

“You know,” she said once, smiling sweetly in public but lowering her voice, “I always wondered how it feels to take everything from you, turns out… it’s really easy.”

I didn’t react, because reacting meant I still mattered, and I wasn’t supposed to.

---

On the anniversary of Arkin’s father’s death, I went alone with flowers in my hand to the same place that held everything I never asked for.

I sat by the tombstone and rested my head lightly against it as the wind moved cold but quiet.

“Mr. Wattson,” I said softly, “are you okay there? Do you get lonely,” I added, “I think you used to like me before everything, you said I was like family.”

A pause.

“I’m tired,” I whispered. “I think I’ll come soon too, so don’t wait too long, okay? Send my regards to my parents up there.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, and for once the noise in my head felt distant.

Then footsteps came.

I opened my eyes and saw Arkin’s mother.

And the closest circle of Arkin’s father behind her.

Her expression changed instantly when she saw me, as if I didn’t belong in the air itself.

“You!” she said sharply, “you still have the nerve to come here?”

Before I could stand, she stepped forward and shoved me hard, and my back hit the tombstone as pain exploded through my ribs.

I slid down slightly, hands shaking as I tried to steady myself, blood already warm on my skin, while no one stopped her and no one reacted.

Arkin’s mother stood over me, voice cold with disgust.

“Don’t you ever show your face here again, Dahlia,” she said. “You don’t belong here,” she snapped. “Not near him. Not near anything in this family.”

Then it turned sharper.

“Murderer! That’s what you are. You’re the one who should’ve died, not him.”

Her hand shook as she pointed at me.

“What did the Wattson family ever do to you? Arkin loved you. My son loved you like you were part of us. And I treated you like my own daughter. So why? Why did you destroy us?”

By the end, her voice cracked completely, caught between rage and grief.

I stayed kneeling, barely able to breathe from my ribs.

I didn’t answer. Because there was nothing left that would make sense to her anyway.

Then Arkin stepped in.

He was quiet at first, just staring at me like he was deciding something he couldn’t say out loud. Then he finally spoke, low and controlled.

“Mom, stop,” he said. “Not here.”

He turned to me next.

“Dahlia, leave. Go to the car. Now.”

I forced myself up slowly. Every movement tore through me, but I still walked out without looking back, because looking back never changed anything.

---

Only after I left did Arkin’s mother finally speak.

She stood by her husband’s grave, face pale, voice rough like something buried for years had finally cracked open.

“Son,” she said to Arkin, “answer me honestly. Do you still love her?”

Arkin didn’t answer right away.

The wind moved through the trees, and the silence stretched too long.

Finally, he said, “No. I stopped a long time ago. And now I just hate her.”

His mother’s expression tightened, something breaking in her face.

“You’re my son,” she said quietly, “how did you hide this from me for so long?”

Then it turned heavier.

“Dahlia is your father’s killer,” she said, voice shaking. “How could you ever stand near her, let alone keep her with you? Do you understand what you’re doing? Your father can’t rest if he sees this.”

Arkin looked away. His jaw tightened, hands curling slightly at his sides like he was holding something back.

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “I’m going to marry Trixie as soon as possible. And Dahlia won’t be here much longer. I’ll make sure she disappears.”

---

After that, everything changed.

Arkin stopped hurting me directly. Not because he cared, but because it shifted into something quieter, more deliberate.

He took me back to places we used to go.

First was a private skybridge residence in California, a glass walkway between luxury towers overlooking San Francisco Bay.

We used to come here when everything still felt soft.

I remembered twisting my ankle once, and he carried me across the entire bridge like I weighed nothing, laughing like the world couldn’t touch us there.

We even left a lock along the railing.

I still remembered what he said.

“Dahlia,” he had laughed, “if we leave this here, you can’t run away from me anymore.”

And I had believed him. Now he stood beside me in silence while I searched for it. It took too long.

When I finally found it, my hands shook. Arkin didn’t stop me. I opened a cutter, snapped it open, and let the lock fall straight into the bay below.

Then we went to a modern coastal estate chapel in Malibu, a glass-built venue overlooking the cliffs where billionaire families held private ceremonies.

We had tied a ribbon there once during a quiet moment meant only for us.

I still remembered what I wrote.

“Arkin love Dahlia”

I didn’t speak when I saw it again.

We just stood there and then I untied it.The wind caught it, and it slipped through the glass edge, disappearing into the cliffs below.

Gone.

Just like that.

Next was a coastal estate garden where we once promised forever, laughing like the ocean would hold our words.

And then a private park inside his father’s estate where we planted a tree together and called it our future.

Every place felt like something quietly being erased from me.

Arkin didn’t speak much and neither did I. Because there was nothing left to argue about anymore.We had already decided.

By the time we finished, the sun was low over the ocean. Arkin leaned against the car door and lit a cigarette.

Then another and another.

He smoked like he was trying to burn something out of himself. Or maybe just trying not to feel anything at all.

…

After the cigarette burned out, Arkin finally moved. He pulled a check from his pocket and handed it to me, his face completely blank.

“This covers the bottles you broke,” he said, then paused like he didn’t even care if I reacted. “Use the rest to buy a plane ticket and leave. Go somewhere far and don’t come back. Don’t tell me where you’re going, and don’t let me ever see you again.”