Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread.

“Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.”

Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.”

I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together.

We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.”

I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?”

Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!”

Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.”

“What?” I blinked, stunned.

“We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.”

Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes.

They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm.

I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal.

Then I smiled.

Bitter and clean.

Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner.

This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy.

***

I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one.

They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with.

I didn’t cry. Not then.

I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth.

He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway.

I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell.

And then I remember headlights.

A door slamming.

Someone shouting my name.

Arms lifting me.

I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static.

Then I saw him.

That face.

Him.

The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel.

But he was real.

He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret.

“Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.”

“Who… are you?” I think I whispered.

He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.”

Then he vanished again.

Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks.

I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come.

And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared.

Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule.

I stood in the corridor and they passed me.

And they froze.

Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse.

Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched.

Pearl?

That was all Jacob said.

I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them.

“You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow.

“You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back.

I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.”

Their mouths opened but no words came out.

And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention.

Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away.

This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside.

This time—free.

The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence.

I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won.

Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does.

Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it.

Clattering.

From the kitchen.

I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them.

Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat.

They both looked up when they saw me standing there.

Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.”

Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low.

I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food.

Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.”

I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.”

The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed.

Then the doorbell rang.

Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door.

Lavenia stood there.

She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet.

The moment they saw her, they moved.

Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?”

“I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly.

“If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.”

“Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.”

Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.”

I didn’t speak.

I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop.

He made steak.

My least favorite.

They didn’t even remember.

I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost.

And then my phone buzzed.

I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom.

She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind.

She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—”

“I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.”

She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.”

There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up.

“How much longer do you need over there?” she asked.

“Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.”

“Good. Everything here’s almost ready.”

I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held.

I looked up.

Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp.

Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?”

Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?”