Viktor was sitting in the living room when I got home.

My twin was tucked against his side, pressed far too close for comfort, casually feeding him slices of fruit as if he already belonged to her. She looked relaxed. Content. Victorious. Like all she had left to do was wait for me to die so she could collect what she thought was hers.

“Alina!”

Viktor shot to his feet the second he saw me. The expression on his face was a strange mix of relief and guilt. He immediately held out a small gift box.

“I bought this for you,” he said quickly. “If you accept it, then it means you agree. You’ll let me stay with her until this is over so she can help you. Please, Alina. Just say yes.”

My gaze settled on the box.

I didn't touch it.

Didn't even raise a hand toward it.

“I don't want the gift,” I replied.

My lips trembled, but I forced my voice to remain steady.

“I'll agree anyway.”

He blinked in surprise.

“You mean that?”

“Yes.”

The single word felt like glass in my throat.

My twin immediately stood and hurried over. She wrapped her fingers around my arm as though we were close sisters again instead of enemies sharing the same blood. Her smile was bright enough to fool anyone who didn't know her.

“That's great,” she said cheerfully. “Then let's get along from now on, okay? No being jealous. Viktor is only helping me experience my dream. He already promised me one month. After that, everything goes back to normal.”

Slowly, I removed her hand from my arm.

“I won't be jealous.”

The tension visibly left Viktor's shoulders.

He immediately disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a bowl of soup. The smile on his face was almost proud, as if we'd just solved everything and become one big happy family.

“I made this for you,” he said. “It's good for rebuilding blood. Eat a little.”

The aroma was comforting.

Familiar.

For one stupid moment, I wanted to trust him.

I lifted the spoon and took a sip.

Instantly, fire spread through my throat.

My eyes widened.

“No—”

I grabbed my chest.

Cold sweat broke out across my skin.

“Shrimp,” I choked out. “You put shrimp in this. Viktor, I'm allergic. You know I'm allergic.”

His face lost all color.

“I thought...” He looked horrified. “I thought it was peanuts. I got them mixed up.”

My twin tilted her head innocently.

“No, darling. You're remembering mine.” She smiled sweetly. “I'm the one allergic to peanuts. I told you that last week, remember?”

The room spun.

A sharp pain tore through my chest.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't do anything except stare at him.

He remembered her allergy.

Not mine.

The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me was Viktor shouting my name.

As though it mattered now.

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at another hospital ceiling.

Viktor sat beside the bed.

His eyes were bloodshot, his face exhausted. He was gripping my hand so tightly it almost hurt.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out the moment he realized I was awake. “It was an accident. Please believe me. I've canceled everything. For the next few days, I'm staying with you. Only you. I swear it won't happen again. Just... please forgive me.”

I turned my face away.

“You don't have to apologize.”

My voice came out quiet.

“Your place is already beside her. Just focus on remembering what she likes now. Take care of her.”

I paused.

“And stay away from me, Viktor. I'm serious.”

Panic immediately flashed across his face.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Nothing between us is real. It's just an agreement. One month, that's all. I'm pretending because she's the only one who can save you. Stop making it into something else. You're my wife. You're the person I love.”

He reached toward me.

Instead of taking his hand, I pulled the blanket higher.

“I'm tired,” I whispered. “I want to sleep.”

His hand lingered awkwardly in the air before dropping back to his side.

After a moment, he stood.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Get some rest.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

For some reason, the sound hurt more than it should have.

The second he was gone, I opened my eyes.

Tears slipped silently into my pillow.

Pointless tears.

Because I already knew the truth.

My time was running out.

Aplastic anemia was slowly consuming me, patient and relentless.

Later that day, I forced myself out of bed.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

I made my way to the closet and pulled out an old dust-covered box hidden behind stacks of forgotten things.

Inside was an entire lifetime.

My lifetime with him.

Movie tickets from our first date.

A cheap bracelet he'd bought from a night market back when he still laughed easily.

Polaroids from happier days, before guns, blood, and mafia business started taking up more space than love.

Every picture showed me smiling.

And in every single one, Viktor's arms were wrapped around me.

My chest ached.

I spent hours sitting on the floor, sorting through every memory.

Touching every insignificant little object as though it would be the last time.

Maybe it was.

When dawn arrived, I carried the box outside.

I lit a small brazier.

Then, one by one, I fed our memories to the flames.

The fire climbed higher.

Photographs curled and blackened.

Promises turned to ash.

Then a furious voice shattered the silence.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Before I could react, my twin charged toward me and shoved me hard.

The brazier tipped over.

Burning coals scattered across the ground.

Several landed against my arm.

I gasped as pain shot through me.

“Bianca—”

I stumbled backward, clutching the burn.

She didn't stop.

She lunged toward me again, her eyes blazing with outrage that I knew was completely fake.

“If you didn't want me here, you could've just said so!” she cried. “Why are you burning my things?”

To anyone else, she sounded hurt.

To me, she sounded pleased.

The commotion brought Viktor running outside.

The moment he saw her, he rushed straight to her side.

“What happened?” he asked, pulling her close protectively. “Are you okay?”

She buried herself against his chest, already crying.

“Viktor...” she sobbed. “She hates me so much. She started burning all my things. Look! She doesn't want me here!”

Only then did he look at me.

For the first time in weeks.

My heart stopped.

But what I saw in his eyes wasn't love.

It was disappointment.

“Alina...” His voice was heavy with disapproval. “How could you do something like this? After everything she's sacrificed for you? After agreeing to help with your treatment? This is how you repay her?”

I couldn't breathe.

Slowly, I bent down and picked up a half-burned photograph from the ashes.

My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped it.

“Look closely.”

My voice cracked.

“These aren't hers.”

I held up the charred photograph.

“They're mine. Ours.”

It was a picture from the previous winter.

Viktor had wrapped his scarf around my neck because I kept complaining about the cold.

For a moment, his expression froze.

“Why...” His voice softened. “Why would you burn these?”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“Because they're ruined.”

My eyes stung.

I tossed the photograph back into the fire.

“I don't want them anymore.”

“No.” He took a step forward. “Alina, these are our memories. You told me we'd look through them together when we were old. Why would you throw them away?”

A small, broken smile touched my lips.

“Don't you understand, Viktor?”

My voice trembled.

“I'm dy—”

“Viktor!”

My twin's voice cut through mine.

She held up her hand dramatically.

“I think I burned it when the brazier fell.”

Just like that, I ceased to exist.

His attention left me instantly.

The concern in his eyes vanished from my direction and settled completely on her.

“Come inside,” he said, taking her hand. “I'll put some ointment on it.”

With one arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the house.

He never looked back.

Not even once.

My arms throbbed from the burns, but I barely paid attention to them. I made my way back to my room, grabbed the first-aid kit from the cabinet, and soaked a cotton ball with alcohol. The moment it touched my skin, pain shot through me so hard it stole my breath.

Even so, it hurt far less than watching Viktor slowly erase me from his life.

There was a time when the smallest injury would send him into a panic. If I got so much as a paper cut, he'd act as though I'd suffered a life-threatening wound, dragging me off to the infirmary while I laughed at him for being ridiculous. Back then, I secretly adored it. His concern made me feel cherished. Important.

Now, he hadn't even noticed the burns on my arm.

Hadn't asked a single question.

He'd simply turned around and walked away with my sister.

Like I wasn't there.

That night, I lay in bed and finally stopped fighting the tears. They slipped down my cheeks and landed on the burns, making them sting all over again. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, trying to keep myself from crying out loud.

But no physical pain came close to the ache sitting in my chest.

The following days only confirmed what I already knew.

I'd been pushed out of my own place in Viktor's world.

My twin never left his side. She attached herself to him so completely that he couldn't move across a room without her finding an excuse to pull him back.

At dinner, she poked his arm and pouted dramatically.

"Viktor, feed me some shrimp," she whined. "It tastes better when you do."

I sat quietly, moving food around my plate without eating much.

Without hesitation, he picked up the shrimp and fed it to her.

She smiled and leaned against him, completely comfortable.

As if I wasn't sitting right there.

Later that evening, they settled on the couch to watch a movie.

She tucked herself against his chest and whispered, "Hold me tighter. The scary scenes make me nervous."

His arms immediately tightened around her.

No hesitation.

No second thought.

Nothing.

Whenever I happened to walk past them, she'd look up at me with that fake, innocent smile.

"Alina, you promised, didn't you?" she'd ask sweetly. "You don't mind us being close?"

Every time, I forced the same small smile.

"Of course not."

Eventually, it became my answer to everything.

I wasn't even sure anymore whether I was pretending or if I'd simply stopped caring.

The truth was, my body was failing faster every day.

The one person who could save me was my own sister.

The woman who shared my blood.

The woman who was supposed to be my donor.

Instead, she dangled that possibility over my head like a prize, always close enough to see but impossible to reach.

And I kept losing.

---

That evening, I stood in front of the mirror.

The woman staring back barely looked familiar.

My skin had turned pale.

My body looked fragile.

I wasn't even sure how much longer I'd be able to stand on my own.

That's when I made up my mind.

I needed one last photograph.

A picture for my funeral.

If Viktor ever forgot my face completely, at least there would be one image left behind. One version of me that still looked alive.

Still smiling.

Still me.

At the photography studio, the photographer smiled politely.

"You have very elegant features," he said while adjusting the camera. "Is this for an ID? Graduation photo?"

I looked directly into the lens.

Outside, I appeared calm.

Inside, I already felt like a ghost.

"It's for my funeral."

The photographer blinked.

His hands faltered for a moment.

I didn't explain.

Didn't elaborate.

I simply sat there as the flash exploded in front of me and imagined the photograph sitting on top of my coffin one day.

Afterward, I waited near the counter for the printed copy.

Then I heard laughter.

A familiar laugh.

Low.

Warm.

His.

Followed by my sister's bright giggle.

My entire body stiffened.

When I turned around, I saw them entering together.

Arm in arm.

Looking exactly like a happy couple.

"Alina?" My sister widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I slipped the photo into my pocket before she could see it.

"Just had a picture taken for an ID," I replied evenly. "What about you?"

She immediately leaned into Viktor's side.

"We wanted a photo album," she said happily. "We did a photoshoot a few days ago. We're just here to pick up the prints."

Viktor glanced toward me.

"She insisted," he explained. "I only went along with it because she kept asking. When you're healthy again, we can make our own album."

My chest tightened painfully.

Still, I simply nodded.

I couldn't trust my voice.

A staff member called them over to review the photos.

I quietly turned toward the exit.

Before I could leave, my twin grabbed my wrist.

"Come help us choose," she said. "You always have better taste than I do."

Before I could refuse, she pulled me toward the computer screen.

The moment I looked up, I wished I hadn't.

There were dozens of photographs.

Them holding hands.

Them smiling at each other.

Them standing beneath a sunset while he kissed her.

Them dressed in matching white outfits while he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Every picture felt like another knife sliding into my chest.

"Which one do you think is best?" she asked brightly. "Which one looks the happiest?"

I couldn't answer.

My throat had completely closed.

Then suddenly—

CRASH!

A deafening sound tore through the studio.

Shelves tipped over.

People screamed.

Everything happened at once.

Viktor immediately threw himself toward my sister, covering her body without even thinking.

Meanwhile, the corner of a falling metal shelf slammed into my shoulder.

Pain exploded through me.

I screamed.

Warm blood soaked through my blouse almost instantly.

"Viktor! It hurts!" my sister cried dramatically, clutching a tiny scratch on her arm.

His face turned white.

"You're bleeding," he said in panic. "We need to get you to a hospital."

Without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms and rushed toward the exit.

For a brief second, he looked back.

Our eyes met.

I was trapped beneath the shelf.

Blood pooled around me.

One second.

Two seconds.

Then he looked away.

And left.

I eventually forced myself to stand.

The room spun around me.

Still, I somehow managed to drag myself to the hospital alone.

The doctor frowned deeply while stitching the wound.

"Why didn't someone bring you in immediately?" he asked. "You lost a significant amount of blood. This injury isn't minor."

I clenched my jaw as the needle pierced my skin.

"I didn't have anyone to bring me."

The doctor hesitated.

Then he said, "That's strange. A young woman came in earlier with nothing more than a small scrape. Her boyfriend was terrified. He demanded every possible test."

A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it.

"That boyfriend was mine too."

The doctor froze.

After that, he didn't ask another question.

He simply finished the stitches in silence.

Late that night, I was sitting in my room changing the dressing on my wound when the bedroom door opened.

Viktor stepped inside.

The moment he saw me struggling with the bandages, he stopped moving.

His eyes immediately landed on the stitched wound.

The color drained from his face.

"Alina..."

His voice cracked.

He crossed the room in seconds.

"What happened to you?"

I didn't bother lifting my head. My attention stayed on the bandage wrapped around my arm.

"The shelf fell on me."

His hand hovered uncertainly over mine before finally settling there. I could feel the tremor in his fingers.

"Everything happened so fast," he said quietly. "Bianca was crying. I thought she'd been seriously injured. I never meant to leave you there."

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

"You made the right choice. She needed you."

His expression tightened immediately.

"No, Alina."

He caught my hand between both of his, holding it so tightly it almost hurt.

"You don't understand. The only reason I've been indulging her is because she's your donor. That's it. You're the woman I love. You always have been. Please stop shutting me out."

My eyes stung.

"I know," I whispered. "That's why I never blamed you."

The tension drained from his face at once. He released a breath as though he'd been holding it for days.

Carefully, he adjusted the dressing on my arm. His touch was gentle, familiar.

"Get some sleep," he murmured. "I'll stay here tonight. I'll watch over you."

For a brief moment, I almost believed him.

With his hands tending to my injuries and his attention focused entirely on me, it felt like stepping back into the past. Back to the days when I never had to wonder whether he'd choose me.

Then his phone rang.

The sharp sound shattered the fragile illusion.

"Viktor..."

Bianca's voice came through the speaker, shaky with manufactured tears.

"I miss you. I'm scared. I can't find you anywhere..."

The guilt on his face appeared instantly.

"I'll be there right away."

The answer came without hesitation.

He ended the call and looked at me, conflicted.

"She's alone at the hospital," he explained. "She's frightened. I'll stay until she falls asleep, then I'll come back. I promise."

And just like that, he was gone.

The room seemed colder the moment the door closed behind him.

I curled into myself on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

My breathing wouldn't settle.

The pain in my body was manageable.

The pain in my heart wasn't.

---

He never came back that night.

Or the next.

At first, I found myself glancing at the clock every few minutes, listening for footsteps in the hallway.

Eventually, I stopped.

I took my medication when I was supposed to.

Changed my bandages.

Rested.

Recovered.

Quietly existing in a corner of a house that no longer felt like mine.

That afternoon, I sat near the window with a book resting in my lap.

Sunlight spilled across the room, warm and golden, but my eyes were too tired to focus on the words.

My phone vibrated.

The moment I answered, Bianca's voice flowed through the speaker.

"Hi, Alina. Want to hear something interesting?"

Her tone was sweet.

Too sweet.

"What is it?" I asked.

She laughed softly.

"Did you know Viktor almost got himself killed because of me?"

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"What are you talking about?"

The amusement in her voice grew stronger.

"I told him I wanted a necklace that was being given away at a motorcycle stunt exhibition. He signed up immediately. Didn't even stop to think about it."

She paused dramatically.

"He was driving so fast the bike nearly flipped. When they rushed him into the emergency room, do you know whose name he was calling?"

My stomach twisted.

"Bianca's."

The word came out of her mouth like a victory parade.

"My name. Not yours."

The book slipped from my hands and landed on the floor.

I turned toward the window.

The sunlight suddenly felt blinding.

My eyes burned, but I refused to let her hear it.

"So he got himself injured to make you happy," I said quietly.

"Mm-hmm."

She practically purred.

"Now he needs someone to take care of him. Maybe you'd like to come?"

I closed my eyes.

Then slowly exhaled.

"No."

The answer surprised even me.

"He's yours, isn't he? You're the one he risked himself for. You should be the one taking care of him."

Silence.

Long enough to feel strange.

Without waiting for another response, I ended the call.

The phone landed on the couch beside me.

For a moment, I simply sat there.

Outside, the trees swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.

I watched them until everything became blurry.

Then I picked up my phone again and dialed a number I'd already memorized.

The call connected after two rings.

"Hello?"

A man's voice.

"Good afternoon," I said calmly. "I'm calling regarding the double grave plot in Section B, Number Twelve. I'd like to ask if—"

The front door slammed open so violently that I nearly dropped the phone.

"Alina!"

My heart lurched.

I looked up.

Viktor stood in the doorway.

His face was pale.

He was still wearing a hospital gown beneath a coat, thick bandages wrapped around his chest. Fresh blood had seeped through the dressings.

His lips were colorless.

His eyes were fixed entirely on me.

The phone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

"Viktor!"

I immediately stood.

"You should still be in the hospital!"

He ignored that.

Instead, he staggered toward me.

"Why?"

His voice sounded strained.

"Why were you asking about a grave?"

For one terrifying second, my heart stopped.

Then I forced myself to smile.

"You're misunderstanding."

I bent to retrieve the phone.

"Our neighbor's dog died. They asked me to help arrange something. That's all."

I kept my tone light.

Normal.

He stared at me for several seconds before his shoulders finally relaxed.

Then pain twisted across his face.

"Motorcycle accident," he muttered.

I hurried forward and caught his arm.

"Don't talk."

My concern overrode everything else.

"We're going back to the hospital right now."

---

During the drive, he leaned against the seat with his eyes half-closed.

For the first time in days, he looked vulnerable.

Not like a mafia king.

Not like the powerful man everyone feared.

Just tired.

Exhausted.

Human.

I watched him quietly.

Memorizing him.

The curve of his jaw.

The way his lips parted whenever he exhaled.

The faint crease between his brows.

Every detail.

Because I knew I wouldn't have much time left.

"This is the last time I'll worry about you," I whispered so softly that even the wind nearly stole the words away.

"After this, I'll already be gone."

He never heard me.

---

At the hospital, I handled the paperwork myself.

I signed forms.

Helped settle him into bed.

Adjusted his blanket.

Made sure he was comfortable.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

Only then did I step outside into the hallway.

I called Bianca.

She answered after a few rings.

"Bianca," I said. "Come tomorrow morning. There's something important I need to do."

Music and laughter echoed faintly in the background.

She sounded like she was enjoying herself.

"I'm out right now, Alina," she said casually. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Don't sound so dramatic."

The line disconnected.

---

The next morning, she arrived exactly as promised.

A designer handbag hung from her shoulder.

Her makeup was flawless.

Her hair looked like she'd just stepped off a runway.

Nothing about her belonged in a hospital.

I smiled faintly.

"You came."

She tilted her head.

A knowing smile curved her lips.

"Of course I did."

Then her expression sharpened.

"Though if we're being honest, Alina, I'm never donating my bone marrow."

The words came easily.

Cruelly.

"Why would I save you? The only thing I've ever wanted is Viktor. I'd rather watch you disappear."

I nodded.

"I know."

My voice remained calm.

"You've wanted me dead for a long time."

I looked her straight in the eye.

"Then take him. Look after him yourself."

Something flashed across her face.

Anger.

Triumph.

Maybe both.

Suddenly, her hand shot out and clamped around my arm.

Her nails dug into my skin.

Pain shot through me.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from making a sound.

The movement was enough to wake Viktor.

The moment she noticed him stirring, Bianca released me.

Then, without hesitation, she slapped herself across the face.

The sound cracked through the room.

Tears instantly filled her eyes.

"Viktor!"

She burst into sobs.

"Alina hit me!"

She stumbled backward dramatically.

"She kept begging me for my bone marrow while you were sleeping. When I refused, she slapped me!"

She covered her cheek and cried harder.

The performance was flawless.

And judging by the look on Viktor's face as he opened his eyes, he had already seen enough to believe her.