Evelyn’s eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, her blurry gaze locked with Christopher’s before he quietly withdrew his hand.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and rough, heavy with fatigue. “My Aunt made porridge. Get up and have some later.”

He looked exhausted, his features worn, as if he hadn’t rested properly in days.

As her awareness sharpened, so did the pain. It radiated from her legs, sharp and relentless, but Evelyn endured it. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, as she asked, “If one day I’m gone... will you marry Charlotte?”

Christopher froze, his gaze darkening as he stared at her. His tone turned firm, laced with a controlling edge. “Where are you planning to go?”

Evelyn didn’t answer directly. Instead, she repeated her question, her voice quieter this time. “I mean, if I leave... will you marry her?”

“There’s no such possibility.”

His response was quick, almost impatient. He adjusted her blanket with a hint of annoyance, his eyes narrowing. “As long as you behave and stop throwing these tantrums, I’ll love you just as much as I always have.”

Evelyn gave him a faint smile, one filled with a quiet resignation. She could feel the cold liquid from the IV drip seeping into her veins, mending her broken body piece by piece. Her voice was soft, tinged with helplessness.

“But Christopher... I’ve never changed.”

***

Evelyn spent the next month confined to her bed.

Some days she scrolled through her phone, other days she lost herself in books. Often, though, she just lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts a jumble of tangled memories and emotions.

Charlotte came by daily, her presence like a bitter wind. Sometimes she would sneer, throwing taunts in Evelyn’s direction, but Evelyn never responded. Her silence seemed to frustrate Charlotte, as if she were punching air.

Eventually, Charlotte stopped trying to provoke her. Instead, she focused her energy on something else—planning Christopher’s wedding.

Staring at the wedding photos of Evelyn and Christopher, Charlotte’s jealousy burned like an uncontrollable flame. Those pictures should have been hers. Christopher should have been hers. The thought of them walking down the aisle together, holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed—it was unbearable.

Sitting on her sofa, Charlotte clenched her fists tightly. This wedding cannot happen.

Something had to be done.

***

An hour later, Charlotte appeared at Evelyn’s house with a glass of water in her hand.

Evelyn was reading a book, her body curled up quietly on the bed. Her slender fingers gently turned the pages, her gaze calm and serene.

“Here,” Charlotte said, her voice trembling as she held out the glass. “Drink some water.”

Evelyn glanced up at her, her eyes drifting to the glass. She noticed the slight tremor in Charlotte’s hand, the pale hue of her face, the nervous waver in her tone. It didn’t take much for Evelyn to realize there was something wrong with the water.

But instead of calling her out, Evelyn asked softly, “You’re having surgery tomorrow, right? Are you nervous?”

Charlotte gripped the glass tighter, her throat tightening. She opened her mouth to answer, but Evelyn spoke again, her voice calm yet carrying an unsettling weight.

“If I drink this water and something happens to me... you won’t live long either.” Evelyn’s eyes met hers, unwavering. “Are you sure you want me to drink it?”

Charlotte froze, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint smile. She gestured toward her chest, her tone light yet cutting.

“Someone needs a heart transplant. Yours, to be exact. And it just so happens I don’t want to live anymore. I signed the papers for the donation.” Her voice dropped, chillingly casual. “The heart you’ll be receiving tomorrow is mine.”

Charlotte’s grip on the glass faltered and with a loud clang, it shattered on the floor. She stared at Evelyn, her face draining of color. “What... what are you talking about? Your heart? Are you saying... you signed the contract?”

Evelyn calmly reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a document. She handed it to Charlotte, her expression unchanging.

“To be honest, I didn’t know the recipient was you when I signed it. The doctor wanted to keep it confidential. If I had known, I never would have agreed.”

Charlotte’s hands trembled as she scanned the paper. Her voice cracked. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me! Why would you give me your heart?!”

Evelyn’s smile deepened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Why would I lie? It’s the truth. You wanted to take my life away... and now, I’m giving it to you. How poetic.”

Charlotte stared at the paper in disbelief, her chest tightening with dread.

Evelyn turned another page in her book, her expression indifferent, as though the chaos unfolding before her was no more than a scene in a distant play.

Christopher’s voice sharpened. “Evelyn, I’m talking to you! What happened here?”

She looked up lazily, her eyes cold and detached. “I already told you. She fell. Maybe you should ask her what she was doing before that happened.”

Christopher clenched his jaw, his arms tightening protectively around Charlotte, who gasped weakly in his embrace. He reached for his phone and called for an ambulance, his voice trembling with urgency.

Evelyn observed him silently. The man she had once loved so deeply, now pouring his energy and care into someone else. Someone who had schemed and manipulated her way into his life. The irony was almost amusing.

As the sound of sirens approached in the distance, Christopher’s anger boiled over. “Is this how you want to play it, Evelyn? Watching someone suffer without lifting a finger? You’ve changed—no, maybe this is who you’ve been all along.”

Evelyn closed her book with a soft thud, the sound echoing in the tense room. She met his furious gaze with an unsettling calm.

“Changed?” she repeated, her voice low and steady. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just stopped pretending to care when it’s clear no one cares for me.”

Christopher flinched at her words but quickly masked it with more anger. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Charlotte, who’s fighting for her life right now while you sit there reading like nothing’s happened!”

Evelyn smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Fighting for her life? Dramatic, isn’t it? But if it helps you sleep at night, go ahead and play the hero.”

Before Christopher could respond, the paramedics burst into the room, swiftly taking over. They carefully lifted Charlotte onto a stretcher, administering oxygen as they prepared to transport her.

As they carried her out, Charlotte managed to glance back at Evelyn, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and hatred. Evelyn met her gaze, unyielding and emotionless.

Once the paramedics left, the room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the heater. Christopher stood frozen by the door, his fists clenched at his sides.

“You’re heartless,” he finally said, his voice trembling with rage. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

Evelyn tilted her head, a faint, sardonic smile playing on her lips. “Heartless? Funny, coming from you. After all, I’m about to literally give her my heart.”

Christopher froze, confusion flashing across his face. “What… what are you talking about?”

Evelyn’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you didn’t know? Charlotte’s surgery tomorrow—the heart she’s waiting for? It’s mine.”

His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then horror. “Stop joking, Evelyn. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Her voice was ice. “Check with her doctor if you don’t believe me. The contract’s been signed, the preparations are done. Once she has my heart, you can live happily ever after with her. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Christopher staggered back a step, his face pale. “Why… Why would you do this?”

“Why not?” Evelyn’s tone was indifferent. “I’m tired, Christopher. Tired of fighting, tired of being hurt, tired of hoping for something that’s never going to happen. If my death can give someone else a chance at happiness, then so be it.”

He stared at her, stunned, the weight of her words crashing down on him. For the first time, he saw the emptiness in her eyes, the scars she had hidden behind her quiet smiles and sharp words.

“Evelyn…” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t,” she said firmly, her gaze hardening. “Save your pity for someone who needs it. Go. Charlotte needs you.”

Christopher hesitated, torn between staying and leaving, but the sound of the ambulance fading into the distance made his decision for him. He turned and walked out the door, leaving Evelyn alone once again.

As the door clicked shut, Evelyn leaned back against the headboard, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

In the quiet of the room, she whispered to herself, “It’s better this way.”

But the silence that followed was deafening, pressing against her like an unbearable weight. For all her talk of being tired, of wanting to let go, the emptiness still hurt.

And yet, she smiled—a bitter, hollow smile. Because this, too, was part of her truth.

She had loved. She had lost. And now, she was ready to disappear.

Evelyn had once been a beacon of kindness and warmth—a girl who wore a tough exterior but had a heart too soft for this world. She would grumble about the stray cats near her house, calling them nuisances, yet secretly leave bowls of food by the gate.

Once, when one of those stray cats died, she buried it under a tree, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She didn’t eat for a whole day afterward.

How could someone who mourned a stray cat now stand indifferent, watching a living, breathing person suffer on the ground?

Christopher’s mind swirled with questions and anger. Had he been the one to ruin her? Had his indulgence and tolerance turned Evelyn into this cold, reckless version of herself?

His chest tightened as he gently laid Charlotte on the floor. Rising, he turned toward Evelyn, his expression dark and oppressive, his voice sharp as steel.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Evelyn looked up at him, her face devoid of emotion and then… she smiled. Not a warm or apologetic smile, but one cold enough to cut through the room like a blade.

The sight made Christopher’s chest burn with fury.

Before he could lash out, a weak voice broke through the tension.

“Brother Christopher… don’t… don’t ask. It was my fault. I slipped…” Charlotte’s words were halting, her breath shallow.

Her feeble attempt at an explanation only fanned the flames of Christopher’s anger. Charlotte was on the verge of death, yet she still defended Evelyn, who stood there with ice in her veins.

It was too much. A firestorm of rage erupted within him, consuming every rational thought.

With a swift motion, his hand rose and the sound of the slap echoed through the room.

“Snap!”

Evelyn stumbled, her head snapping to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t cry out.

Instead, a strange ringing filled her ears, sharp and relentless, as if something inside her had snapped. She reached up, touching her ear in confusion.

Christopher’s voice, sharp and venomous, cut through the haze. “If anything happens to Charlotte, the wedding is off. Do you hear me? Off!”

She heard the words—every syllable—but only in her left ear. Her right ear heard nothing but silence.

Her hand trembled as she covered her left ear, testing her hearing. She played music on her phone, pressing it against her right ear.

Silence.

She was deaf in one ear.

Evelyn froze, her fingers slowly dropping to her side.

How much anger… how much hatred must Christopher have felt to strike her so hard that he robbed her of her hearing?

For a moment, she stood there, dazed, until a bitter smile curled her lips.

It doesn’t matter, she thought. Nothing matters anymore. Deaf? Fine. I wasn’t planning on staying alive much longer anyway.

Without a word, she wiped the blood from her mouth and sat back on the bed. She picked up the book she’d been reading earlier, flipping through its pages as if nothing had happened.

***

An hour later, the book lay finished on her nightstand. Evelyn changed her clothes, grabbed her coat and left the house.

Her surgery was scheduled for the next morning—an operation she wasn’t sure she’d survive. Tonight was all she had left and she intended to use it to revisit the places that had once held meaning.

On her way out, she sent Christopher a single text:

[Goodbye.]

He didn’t reply. Of course, he wouldn’t. He was probably at the hospital, pacing anxiously over Charlotte.

As she trudged through the snow, Evelyn’s thoughts turned dark. For a fleeting moment, she wished Charlotte would die. If Charlotte were gone, there would be no need for the surgery tomorrow.

But the bitterness subsided almost as quickly as it had come. Evelyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. No, it’s better if she survives. I’m the one who should be gone, after all.

The pain in her legs made her stagger, but she kept moving, her footsteps slow and deliberate. Snowflakes fell gently around her, blanketing the city in silence.

***

She passed the movie theater where she and Christopher had gone on their first date. They had sat in the back row, sneaking popcorn and whispering jokes during the previews.

Now, the theater was dark, the doors locked and a closed sign hung in the window. Evelyn lingered there for half an hour, lost in the memories, before moving on.

Her feet carried her to her father’s house, where the lights were still on despite the late hour. It was past one in the morning and yet…

The sight of the warm light stirred something in her chest—a pang of guilt, a sliver of regret. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the call button.

But then she stopped. It was late. She didn’t want to wake him.

Instead, she sent a single text message to both her parents:

[Let’s be a family next time.]

She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send.

***

The city was quiet, the streets empty, as Evelyn wandered aimlessly through the night. Snow crunched beneath her boots, her breath forming pale clouds in the frigid air.

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, she found herself back at the bridge overlooking the frozen river. She leaned against the railing, watching as the sky shifted from gray to pink.

The world felt still, suspended in that moment between night and day.

Evelyn closed her eyes, letting the cold seep into her skin. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace.

Tomorrow would come. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, she was ready.

Evelyn walked through the quiet streets, her steps slow and measured. The cold bit into her skin, but she didn’t mind.

She paused as she passed her father’s house. The lights were still on. She remembered his habit of staying up late, probably helping her half-siblings with their studies. It reminded her of the times when he had stayed up for her too—once upon a time. But those memories felt distant now, like they belonged to another lifetime.

With a faint smile, she kept walking.

This time, she headed toward her mother’s house.

The house was dark, its windows shadowed against the pale glow of dawn. But even in the dim light, Evelyn could make out the white curtains that adorned her mother’s windows.

Her smile widened, bittersweet and filled with a strange warmth.

Her mother had always wanted white curtains, but her father had vetoed the idea. “They’ll get dirty too quickly,” he had said. “You’ll have a hard time cleaning them.”

Back then, Evelyn hadn’t thought much of it. Her father always seemed so concerned for her mother’s well-being. But now, standing here, she saw it differently.

Why hadn’t her father offered to clean them himself? Why had it always been her mother’s burden to bear?

But now, at least, her mother was free. She had her white curtains and Evelyn was certain there was someone in her life willing to help keep them clean.

Evelyn touched her ears absentmindedly, then turned her back on the house.

“Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad,” she whispered under her breath.

And then, as her steps took her further away, she added softly, “Goodbye, Christopher.”