“Sabrina… I was hoping you could come visit me soon. I’m in the hospital, and the doctors… they’re still running tests.”My mother's voice was weaker than I’d expected, a frail tone I’d never heard from her before.

My grip on the phone tightened, worry seeping in around the edges of her words. “What’s going on? Is it serious?”

She sighed softly. “I don’t know yet. But I’d like you to come. I’d like to see you, sweetheart.”

“Of course, Mom. I’ll book a flight as soon as I can.”

Her relief was almost palpable. “And one more thing…” She paused, and I could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About you. And your future.”

The conversation was taking a turn I hadn’t expected, but I waited, my heart twisting slightly.

“Sabrina, before… before anything happens, I want to see you happy, settled. I want to see you married.” Her voice softened, carrying a gentle urgency. “I’ve even arranged a date for you. He’s a good man, someone who will take care of you.”

I swallowed, my throat tightening as a mix of emotions welled up—grief for my father, irritation over Savvy, and now this. But the look in her eyes when she used to celebrate my birthday with Dad flashed through my mind. They’d divorced years ago, but for me, they always put their differences aside, marking that day together every year. It hurt to know that those celebrations were memories now, shadows of a life I couldn’t reach anymore.

“Mom, I agree to date him.” I said finally.

She sighed with relief. “Thank you, Sabrina. I can’t wait to see you.”

The call ended, and I stood there in the quiet, looking around the empty room. Everything felt different now, like I was watching the world I’d known drift further and further away, a little more each day. My family, my childhood friends, my city—it all felt suddenly foreign, like a place I no longer belonged to.

I stood in the doorway outside Savvy’s room, my heart twisting with the familiar ache that always came with this day. Today was the anniversary of my father’s death, and I should have been on my way to visit his grave, not here—dressed up, waiting for a birthday party I didn’t even want to attend.

Inside, Savvy’s voice rose in a singsong lilt. She adjusted her dress in the mirror, batting her lashes at her own reflection, acting as if she didn’t notice me standing there, looking like I’d rather be anywhere else.

“Sabrina, seriously? You’re going to make that face all night?” she asked, turning to me with a laugh that had nothing to do with humor. “It’s my birthday. You know, a time to celebrate?”

I took a deep breath, the pressure of everything pressing down on me. “You know what today is,” I said quietly, though the words felt like shouting.

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, almost imperceptibly, and then she sighed, loud enough to make a point. “You think you’re the only one who misses him?”

“You don’t get it, Savvy,” I replied, my voice catching. “Today… it should be different. I need to be somewhere else.”

She walked toward me, her gaze softening for a moment before the calculating gleam returned. “I get it, Sabrina. But maybe I’m tired of everything being about you. Just once, can we focus on something else?”

Her words sliced through me, but I couldn’t muster a response. She wanted this, didn’t she? My silence. She was counting on me to just stand there, to watch as she went downstairs, floating like a queen through her own birthday party, leaving me to take whatever scraps were left behind. It was always like this since she’d come to live with us, and somehow, she managed to take everyone and everything with her.

She moved past me, and suddenly the tension snapped. I reached out, but before I even touched her, she stumbled, catching her foot on the edge of the rug. And then it happened—all at once, everything spinning into slow motion. She fell back, eyes wide, arms flailing. Her scream pierced the air as she tumbled down the stairs, her body rolling, limbs limp. I froze, my heart seizing with shock as she crashed onto the landing below, coming to a stop with a whimper.

Before I could even breathe, Nicolas and Harvey appeared, drawn by her cries. They rushed to her side, their faces etched with alarm. Nicolas reached out, his hands hovering over her as he checked for injuries, while Harvey pulled her to sit up, his arms strong and steady around her.

“Sabrina,” Nicolas said, his voice laced with disbelief and hurt. He looked at me like he barely recognized me. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth to explain, to make them understand, but Savvy clung to Harvey’s arm, her face twisting into something I’d never seen before—a look that made me sick to my stomach. She trembled, her voice weak as she murmured, “She… she pushed me. I didn’t… I don’t know why.”

The words fell from her lips like poison, and I felt the room shift around me, the pressure of her lie pressing down on me as Nicolas and Harvey exchanged glances.

“Sabrina,” Harvey’s voice was edged with something cold, something sharp. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t push her,” I managed, my voice hoarse, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “She… she fell. I swear I didn’t—”

But Nicolas shook his head, his hand settling on Savvy’s shoulder, his expression unreadable. They turned their backs on me, guiding her down the hall, already talking in low, comforting voices about getting her to the hospital. I watched them go, my chest tightening, as they left me alone with a silence that felt colder than anything I’d ever known.

They didn’t even look back.

A lump formed in my throat as I remembered the past, when these same two boys—no, these same two men—had been my whole world. After my mom left to pursue her career, it was my dad who’d stayed, who’d kept me close and safe. When he was gone, it was Nicolas and Harvey who’d stepped in, filling the void he left behind. They’d stood beside me, my silent protectors, warding off every cruel whisper at school, every hurtful word about my broken family, every comment about my heart condition.

But since Dad’s death, Savvy had crept in, spreading her roots into every corner of my life, until it felt like there was no place left for me.

They didn’t even remember what today was. And maybe that was the worst part of all.

I turned, my legs carrying me down the stairs and out of the house, the air thick with the scent of autumn as I stumbled into the bustling New York streets. The city lights blurred as I walked, aimless, my heart hammering with the reality of what I’d just lost. Not just Dad, not just the anniversary of his death, but my friends—my lovers—the ones who had once been my safe haven. They’d chosen her, over and over, and left me to carry this heaviness alone.

Somehow, I found myself on the familiar path to the cemetery, my steps slowing as I neared the grave. A low breeze rustled through the leaves, and I knelt down, brushing my fingers over the smooth, cool stone.

“Dad,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do anymore. They don’t… they don’t see me, not really. I miss you so much. Everything’s different without you.”

A tear slid down my cheek, falling onto the stone, and I felt a heaviness settle over me, a heaviness I hadn’t realized I was still carrying. It felt like Dad was here, his presence woven into every inch of this place. But I knew that no matter how long I sat here, how many tears I shed, he wasn’t coming back. And I couldn’t keep holding onto what had been, to who I’d been, when everything was slipping further from my grasp.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the stillness of the night. Nicolas and Harvey… they had once promised to protect me, to stand by me. And for years, I’d trusted that. I’d believed in it, clung to it. But now, I could feel that part of my life fading, leaving behind only the sharp ache of something I couldn’t hold onto anymore.

I rose, brushing the leaves from my coat, and looked one last time at the stone. “I have to go, Dad,” I murmured. “I don’t belong here anymore. Not like this.”

As I turned, the city lights gleamed ahead of me, drawing me forward, and I realized I didn’t need anyone else to tell me who I was or where I belonged.

I stood in the quiet of my father’s studio, fingers trailing over the worn edges of his workbench, feeling the grain of the wood he had sanded down with care. This studio was all that was left of him now, tucked away in a forgotten corner of New York. The last real piece of him, right here, surrounded by the faint scent of paint and sawdust that still lingered. It was comforting, grounding—and somehow, unbearable all at once.

Today was supposed to be about honoring him, marking his absence on the anniversary of the day he died. But that was too simple, wasn’t it? Instead, Savvy’s antics had stolen any chance I had for a quiet moment alone with my memories.

I’d already decided to let go of the studio. As much as it hurt, I knew that staying here, trying to keep it as he left it, was only going to hold me back. My father’s work deserved more than that. But leaving it behind felt too final, like cutting the last string to him, even though I’d been trying to loosen that knot for years.

The buzzing of my phone interrupted my thoughts, the screen lighting up with a message from Savvy: “Could you bring me some clean clothes? It’s the least you could do.”

I felt my chest tighten, anger welling up as I stared at her words. After everything she’d done—the scene she’d caused, the way she twisted the truth, the way she’d cast me as the villain in front of everyone—she had the nerve to ask me for a favor? My fingers hovered over the screen, itching to respond, to say something biting, something that would cut. But I swallowed back the words. There was no point.

No, I thought. I’m not bringing you anything, Savvy.

Minutes passed. I tried to settle myself, turning my gaze back to the studio, the bits and pieces he’d left behind, but the stillness didn’t last long. My phone lit up again, this time with a call from Nicolas. I considered ignoring it, but something in me—the part that couldn’t ignore him, no matter how much I wanted to—made me answer.

“Sabrina,” he said, without preamble, “could you please bring some clothes to the hospital for Savvy? She’s been asking for hours now.”

I let out a cold laugh, though the sound felt foreign even to me. “She already texted me,” I replied, my voice colder than I intended. “And I’m not bringing her anything.”

There was a beat of silence, long enough for his sigh to slip through. “Sabrina, don’t be like this,” he said eventually, his voice edged with irritation. “She’s at the hospital, and you can’t even bring her a change of clothes?”

I tightened my grip on the phone. “She’s got both of you there to look after her, doesn’t she? Why should she need anything from me?”

A tense silence stretched between us, neither of us willing to give in. Finally, I hung up, the familiar anger and hurt mixing in my chest like oil and water, making it hard to breathe. I wasn’t going to play along, not this time. If they couldn’t see the truth by now, then maybe they never would.

A knock sounded at the door not long after. I opened it to find Nicolas and Harvey standing outside, their faces serious, expressions unreadable. The sight of them—these two people who’d been with me through everything—only made my chest tighten more.

“Sabrina,” Harvey began, his voice calm, steady, but tinged with disappointment, “it would have taken you two minutes to bring her clothes. Was that really so difficult?”

Nicolas crossed his arms, his eyes hard. “She’s injured, and you’re refusing to help her?”

They exchanged glances, that silent communication they had always shared, the same one that had once included me. Now it felt like they were looking through me, like I was the outsider, the unreasonable one.

“Sabrina,” Harvey began, his tone measured, “it’s not like you to be this… inconsiderate.”

Inconsiderate. The word landed with a finality that left me feeling hollow. I glanced down, and my eyes caught on the bracelet around my wrist—the gift they’d given me on my eighteenth birthday. It had taken them weeks to find the right one, combing through countless stores in the city just to find something in my favorite style. At the time, they’d looked at me with such pride, sliding it onto my wrist as if it were a promise.

Their words cut deeper than I cared to admit, and I fought to keep my expression steady. My fingers drifted to the bracelet around my wrist. I could still remember the way they’d looked when they handed it to me, both of them so proud to have found something they thought suited me perfectly. They’d spent days searching the city for it, making sure it was exactly what I would love, a symbol of everything they believed I was.

But now, it felt like a pressure, a reminder of how much had changed since that day. The bracelet was the last thing connecting us, yet it felt foreign, almost mocking, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

Without a word, I reached for the clasp, my fingers trembling slightly as I slipped it off and held it out in front of them. It dangled from my fingers, the small silver chain catching the light, as fragile as the bond we once shared.

“Sabrina… what are you doing?” Harvey asked, his tone softening, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

I kept my gaze steady, though the effort made my throat tighten. “The style doesn’t suit me anymore,” I said, each word feeling heavier than the last.

A moment of silence passed between us, the pressure of my words sinking in. Nicolas’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together as he took a step forward, his hand half-raised as if he wanted to stop me.

“If that’s the problem,” he said carefully, “we can find you a new one. Something that… fits you better.”

But I shook my head, setting the bracelet down on the small table beside me, watching as it lay there, motionless, like a ghost of something I’d already lost. They both stared at it, their eyes darkening with something I couldn’t name, a realization that felt too little, too late.

“Sabrina,” Harvey murmured, his voice laced with hesitation, like he wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t give him the chance to finish, didn’t wait for them to come up with some excuse, some reason that would justify everything they’d done.

“I don’t want it,” I said, keeping my voice steady even as a wave of finality washed over me. “Not anymore.”

They looked at me, both of them silent, their faces unreadable, caught off guard in a way I hadn’t seen in years. For once, they didn’t have anything to say, no words to fill the silence that had grown between us.

Nicolas reached out, but his hand fell short, hovering in the space between us, as though he didn’t know if he should touch me. Harvey shifted his weight, his gaze lingering on the bracelet, but he made no move to take it.

I turned away, stepping past them without another word. The house felt colder as I moved through it, each step echoing as if it were the last. I didn’t look back, didn’t wait to see if they’d pick up the bracelet, if they’d even understand what it meant. Maybe, in time, they would. Or maybe they wouldn’t.

Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. I walked out into the cool New York air, the door closing behind me with a quiet finality. I kept moving, feeling a strange lightness in my chest, as though I’d left something behind.

I woke up the next morning, finding the house too quiet. The faint morning light slipped through the blinds, casting long, delicate lines on the floorboards. The weight of yesterday lingered heavily, and I could still feel the ache of my parting words to Nicolas and Harvey, like echoes that wouldn’t stop.

I took a breath and tried to brush it off, reaching for a clean shirt when I heard voices downstairs. Nicolas and Harvey had let themselves in again, apparently. I headed down, wondering if they’d come to press me for another favor for Savvy. The minute I reached the bottom of the stairs, I caught sight of them in my room, looking through my things.

“Good morning,” I said, a slight edge in my voice, crossing my arms as I entered.

They turned, both glancing at me with guarded expressions. Harvey cleared his throat, gesturing toward the few things left on my dresser. “Sabrina, we noticed you didn’t give Savvy anything for her birthday yesterday. Thought these might be a good idea for her. She could use some cheering up.”

Nicolas picked up a small bottle of perfume I’d left on my vanity. “She’d like this, don’t you think?”

My jaw tightened as I watched them, but I didn’t say anything, just kept my gaze on them. They didn’t notice the look on my face as they casually pulled open a drawer, looking for anything else that might be “perfect” for Savvy. But as they reached my closet, they paused, confusion flickering across their faces. Harvey pulled open one door, then another, only to be met with empty hangers, untouched shelves, and a distinct absence of anything to take.

“Sabrina,” Nicolas started, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the closet. “Where is everything?”

Just as I opened my mouth to answer, Nicolas’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen, and his expression shifted immediately, brows drawing together as he glanced at Harvey. “It’s Savvy. She needs us at the hospital now.”

They didn’t wait for an answer from me. Harvey just nodded in my direction as they quickly left, my empty closet and their questions forgotten. The door clicked shut, and for a moment, I stood there in the quiet, letting the silence settle again.

I slipped out of the house, needing some fresh air, and made my way to my father’s studio one last time. It was practically empty, his tools neatly packed away, the scent of wood and metal still faint in the air. Mr. Caldwell, one of my father’s oldest friends, met me at the door.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re letting go of the studio, Sabrina,” he said quietly, a knowing smile in his eyes.

I nodded, trying to find the words. “It’s… it’s time. I need to let it go.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box. “Before you do, I wanted to give you something. Your father designed it years ago, one of his best pieces. He called it Hope Jade. Thought it might bring you some comfort.”

I opened the box, and there it was—a piece of jewelry unlike any I’d ever seen. A deep, green stone set in intricate gold, delicate and powerful all at once, something only my father could have created. My fingers trembled slightly as I held it, the weight of his craftsmanship grounding me.

“Thank you,” I murmured, the words barely a whisper. “I’ll keep it with me.”

Mr. Caldwell nodded, patting my shoulder before he turned to go. I stood in the stillness of the studio for a while longer, letting the memories wash over me, feeling the bittersweet ache of goodbye.

When I got home later that evening, the last box was waiting for me. Savvy had picked it up from the courier while she was being discharged from the hospital. She must have left it here earlier, and for once, she’d left without a scene.