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.

My eyes widened in disbelief.

"That's not true," I said immediately. "Brent, listen to me. She's making it up."

"Enough."

Viktor's voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Before I could react, he yanked the IV from his arm and swung his legs off the hospital bed. Blood stained the tape wrapped around his wrist, but he didn't seem to notice. He crossed the room in seconds, fury radiating from him.

His fingers clamped around my arm.

The grip was so tight it felt like my skin was burning.

Then his hand struck my face.

The force sent me crashing to the floor.

For a moment, all I could hear was ringing.

Pain exploded through my cheek.

Something warm trickled down my upper lip.

I touched my face and stared at the blood coating my fingertips.

My nose was bleeding.

"Is this what you've become?" Viktor demanded, his voice rough with anger. "Trying to force Bianca into something like that? Couldn't you wait? Couldn't you think about anyone besides yourself for once?"

His breathing was uneven.

His eyes were filled with disappointment.

"You're not the woman I fell in love with anymore, Alina."

The words hit harder than the slap.

"You disgust me."

Behind him, Bianca pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

She looked fragile.

Heartbroken.

Innocent.

But through the curtain of tears, I caught it.

The slight curve at the corner of her lips.

She was enjoying every second of this.

I pressed my sleeve against my nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

Tears slipped down my face, mixing with the blood.

But I didn't defend myself.

What was the point?

Nothing I said would matter.

There was nothing left to explain.

Nothing left worth fighting for.

Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet.

My legs trembled beneath me.

Without another word, I walked toward the door.

Just before I stepped out of the room, I heard Viktor speak again.

This time his voice was gentle.

Patient.

Protective.

The same tone he used to reserve only for me.

"Bianca, don't cry."

The tenderness in his voice nearly broke me.

"I'm here now. No one's going to hurt you."

I paused.

His next words reached me before the door closed.

"Once I'm discharged, I'll deal with Alina."

I smiled.

A hollow, bitter smile.

Then I wiped my tears away and kept walking.

---

By the time I reached home, my cheek still stung.

My nose hadn't completely stopped bleeding either.

Every inch of me ached.

The moment I stepped inside, I collapsed onto the couch.

I pressed a towel against my face and closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the pain.

Then the doorbell rang.

The sound startled me.

For a brief, foolish second, I wondered if Viktor had come after me.

Slowly, I forced myself upright and shuffled toward the front door.

When I opened it, I froze.

A woman stood on the doorstep.

For a moment, I didn't recognize her.

Then realization hit.

My mother.

The woman who had abandoned me when I was still a baby.

She looked older than the version I'd imagined all these years.

Smaller too.

Life had clearly worn her down.

The second she saw me, her bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the ground.

Then she rushed forward.

Her arms wrapped around me so tightly that I nearly lost my balance.

"My baby," she sobbed.

Her voice broke completely.

"Alina... I finally found you."

My knees weakened.

The two of us sank onto the couch together.

Everything felt unreal.

She pulled back just enough to look at me.

The moment she noticed the blood and bruises, panic flooded her face.

"What happened to you?" she cried. "Why are you hurt?"

I pressed the towel more firmly against my nose.

"I have aplastic anemia."

The words came out barely above a whisper.

"I need a bone marrow transplant."

The color drained from her face.

She grabbed both my hands.

"I'll do it."

Her voice shook.

"I'll donate if I'm a match. We'll leave together. Come to Europe with me. Your brothers are there. You can live with us. Please, Alina. Come home with me."

My chest tightened painfully.

"You left me."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

"You left me and Bianca with Grandma. Then you disappeared."

I looked straight at her.

"How am I supposed to trust you now?"

Her expression changed instantly.

Confusion flickered across her face.

"Bianca?"

She blinked.

"Who's Bianca?"

I frowned.

"My twin sister."

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

"My fraternal twin. You left both of us behind."

Her grip loosened.

Then her hands started trembling.

"No."

She shook her head slowly.

"Alina... you don't have a twin."

My heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"I only gave birth once."

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"There was only one baby."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"You."

The room seemed to tilt sideways.

My stomach dropped.

"No," I whispered. "Grandma always told us we were twins."

My mother's face crumpled.

"When I left, I left one child with your grandmother."

She was crying openly now.

"I swear to you. There was never another baby. Whoever that girl is, she's not your sister."

A cold sensation spread through my chest.

Like something rotten had been buried inside my life for years and had only now started surfacing.

My mother wiped at her tears.

"I worked overseas because I needed money," she said. "I sent everything home."

Her voice trembled.

"Then I got into an accident. I lost my memory."

I stared at her.

She continued.

"I only started remembering things last year. Ever since then, I've been looking for you. Everywhere. I never stopped being your mother, Alina. I never stopped loving you."

I wanted to believe her.

Part of me desperately wanted to.

But my entire life suddenly felt like a lie.

"I need time."

My voice sounded distant.

"I need to think."

She nodded immediately.

As though she'd expected that answer.

Leaning forward, she kissed my forehead.

Softly.

"I'll wait."

She slipped a piece of paper containing her number into my hand.

Then she stood and left.

---

I barely had time to process any of it.

A few minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed outside.

The back gate burst open.

Five men stormed into the yard.

I recognized them immediately.

Viktor's men.

Before I could react, they grabbed me.

I struggled.

Fought.

But my body was too weak.

Someone threw a blanket over my shoulders and dragged me outside.

Humiliation burned hotter than the bruises.

Rain began pouring from the sky.

Within seconds I was drenched.

Cold water soaked through my clothes.

Thunder rolled overhead.

Everything felt loud.

Chaotic.

Cruel.

One of the men crouched beside me.

"Boss says you're sleeping outside tonight."

His voice was emotionless.

"Punishment for what you did to Miss Bianca."

I pounded my fists against the door.

"Please."

My voice cracked.

"I'm sick."

Rainwater ran down my face.

"My medicine is inside. Please let me get it."

Nobody listened.

Someone shoved me backward.

Another man laughed.

The rain kept falling.

My body started shaking uncontrollably.

Then my phone rang.

Viktor.

For a moment, I simply stared at his name.

Then I answered.

"Listen carefully."

His voice was cold.

Emotionless.

"Your transplant was supposed to happen tomorrow."

My throat tightened.

"After what happened today, Bianca's refusing."

He paused.

"She's too traumatized."

The bitterness in his voice cut deep.

"Maybe spend tonight thinking about your actions."

The line disconnected.

Just like that.

I lowered the phone slowly.

Rain mixed with the tears on my face.

Curled up on the cold ground, I hugged the phone against my chest as though it was the only thing keeping me alive.

For several minutes, I simply sat there.

Shivering.

Alone.

Then I remembered the number my mother had left behind.

With numb fingers, I searched for it.

My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone twice before managing to dial.

The call connected.

A sleepy voice answered after a few rings.

"Hello?"

My throat closed.

For a second, I couldn't speak.

Then the word finally came out.

"M-Mom..."

My teeth chattered from the cold.

Rain soaked my hair and clothes.

"P-please..."

My voice broke.

"Come get me."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Tears mixed with rainwater.

"I'll go with you."

The confession hurt more than it should have.

"I don't care where."

My voice cracked completely.

"Just... please get me out of here."