"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding."

The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot.

Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe.

Sangaria City, Arlencia.

"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding."

The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot.

Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe.

Last time, she hadn't listened. She'd begged Vincent, tried to explain he'd fallen for her, not Mira. Pleaded with her parents to stop the act, to make Mira quit stealing her place.

All it did was make Vincent hate her more.

Even when she was bleeding out after the crash, he told the nurse on the phone, cold as ice, "What trick is she pulling now? Tell her to stop ruining my wedding with Mira."

She died on the operating table, eyes locked on the screen—Vincent sliding a ring onto Mira's finger, the whole world cheering them on.

But now? With a second shot at life? She wasn't crawling back.

"Fine. I'll go." She took the ticket, voice flat and calm—too calm.

Donald and Diana froze.

"You're really leaving?" Diana asked. "You're not planning something to ruin Mira, are you?!"

'Ruin?' What a joke.

Vincent had been hers.

They were the ones who handed him to Mira.

Over twenty years ago, when Mira was diagnosed with leukemia, Donald and Diana didn't blink—they had another kid. That kid was her.

Her cord blood saved Mira's life. From that moment on, she lived in Mira's shadow.

Mira was the sick one, the fragile one, so all the love went to her.

Sasha got used to giving things up—bedrooms, friends, competition spots.

But there was one thing she wouldn't let go of.

The boy she'd fallen for the second she saw him—Vincent Scythe, heir to the Scythe family.

He used to be untouchable, a golden boy in the clouds. Then a car crash after his birthday banquet left him blind and stashed away in some far-off estate.

Sasha never told anyone. She swiped the keys and climbed the wall every day after school just to be with him.

"I'll come every day."

In the dark, her voice—soft and clear—became the only thing holding Vincent together.

She never told him her real name. Just traced the letters in his palm: "Call me Twinkie."

He brushed her hair like it was glass, played piano for her, held her frozen hands against his chest when storms rolled in.

The night before his surgery, he kissed her fingertips.

"When my eyes are healed," he whispered, "you'll be the first person I see. When that happens... let's be together, okay?"

The surgery lasted twelve hours.

But when Vincent opened his eyes, he saw Mira.

Donald and Diana had found out Mira liked him too. So they drugged Sasha's water, knocked her out for a full day.

Then they lied. Told Vincent Mira had been the one by his side all those years.

And he believed it.

He fell for Mira, dated her, got engaged.

For three years, Sasha tried to tell him the truth—that she was the one he loved.

He never believed her.

Not until she died.

Staring at the two people who gave birth to her, Sasha felt nothing but dry amusement.

"You pushed me out over and over. Now that I'm saying yes, you don't buy it? Doesn't that sound a little messed up to you?"

"That's not what we meant," Diana said quickly. "If you're willing to go, that's for the best. You'll leave for Eurphie in two weeks. Use the time to pack and get your affairs in order."

Worried she'd change her mind, Donald and Diana tacked on a few more reminders, then left looking satisfied.

She turned and went back to her room.

The second the door shut, her phone buzzed.

A message from Vincent:

[Eight tonight. Grand Regency Hotel, 1808.]

Sasha stared at it, fingers curling just a little.

Last time, this message had made her heart race—she'd thought he was finally ready to listen.

Instead, he'd dragged her there to watch him screw Mira—like it was some sick, live show just to gut her.

She'd cried.

He'd looked her dead in the eye and said, "See it clearly? The only person I love is your sister."

Thinking about it now? It was pathetic. Almost funny.

She exhaled slow, then typed back:

[Okay.]

At eight sharp, she walked into the Grand Regency Hotel.

The door to 1808 was wide open.

Vincent had his arms around Mira, their bare bodies tangled together.

Used condoms littered the floor, and the air was thick with lust.

Mira jolted when she saw Sasha standing there.

Vincent didn't even flinch. He just kissed down Mira's collarbone, voice low and smooth.

"Don't be scared. I called her here on purpose. She needs to see it. Needs to understand I love you. That from now on, I'm only going to be her future brother-in-law."

Even after living through it once, watching it again still felt like getting gutted—bloody and raw.

But she had to get used to it.

Because Vincent wasn't hers. And he never would be.

After who knows how long, Sasha finally unclenched her fist. Her palm was carved with deep nail marks.

Vincent was walking toward her now, fully dressed.

"Did you see it clearly?" he said. "The only person I love is your sister. Don't forget your place. I'm your future brother-in-law. Stop doing those shameless things."

Her face didn't move. "Yeah. I saw. I get it."

He hesitated—like he didn't expect her to be this calm.

Then he picked up a wedding invite from the nightstand and handed it to her. "Mira and I are getting married next month. I hope you'll come."

Sasha took it. "I'll be there. Right on time. And I'll wish you both a long, happy life."

Vincent frowned, eyes fixed on her.

For some reason, Sasha was way too obedient today.

He didn't question it. He just laced his fingers with Mira's and headed out of the Grand Regency. Sasha trailed after them, her steps dragging.

Her head was down, thoughts drifting, when a sharp scream ripped through the air.

A huge overhead sign came crashing down.

Vincent reacted on instinct, yanking Mira back just in time.

Sasha was the only one still standing there.

The sign slammed into her. Blood splashed as she hit the floor.

Pain tore through her in brutal waves, shredding her nerves until she shook in a spreading pool of red.

Tears blurred her vision. Through it, she saw him holding Mira, shielding her.

Then she shut her eyes.

The boy who'd once belonged only to her was gone for good.

And she could finally let him go.

When Sasha opened her eyes, she was in a hospital bed.

A nurse was swapping out her bandages. The second she noticed Sasha was awake, she let out a shaky breath. "You've been out for two days. Finally woke up. How're you feeling?

"Your sister passed out from the shock when she brought you in. Your parents and your sister's fiance are in the next room taking care of her. Want me to call them?"

Sasha blinked slowly. Then shook her head. "No. They don't wanna see me, and I don't wanna see them."

The nurse hesitated, eyes soft with pity, then slipped out of the room.

"Both girls are their daughters, but the younger one almost bled out and landed in the ICU. They haven't even stopped by. Been fussing over the older one like she's the only one who matters."

"I heard the older sister's engaged to the president of Scythe Corp. No wonder the parents ditched the younger one—she's not marrying into a fortune. But the fiance? He hasn't left his fiancee one's side—feeding her meds, soup, even brought in a retired therapist. Her room's practically buried in gifts."

The nurses' voices weren't loud, but every word landed sharp in Sasha's ears.

Her face didn't flicker.

She'd seen this all before.

That afternoon, the doctor called her in for a follow-up. No one came with her. So she dragged her weak body out of bed and walked there alone.

As she passed the next room, she caught a glimpse—her parents and Vincent gathered around the bed, fussing over Mira.

Donald gently tucked the blanket around her while Diana sat peeling grapes, popping them one by one into her mouth.

A soft, sugary smile bloomed on the older sister's face. Her voice was sweet and careful. "Dad, Mom, you've been taking care of me this whole time and haven't even checked on Sasha.

"I'm full now—why don't you bring her the rest of the fish soup? She's really hurt. She should have something nourishing."

Donald shut that down instantly. "Don't worry about her. That girl could survive anywhere. Your mother spent all night on that soup. Giving it to her would be a waste."

Diana nodded like that made perfect sense.

Vincent brushed the older sister's bangs back, eyes soft with concern. "The doctor said you fainted from worrying too much.

"Sasha's always been cold—never cared about being your sister. She even had the nerve to go after your fiancé. She's not worth it."

Sasha let out a low, bitter laugh. No heat—just hollow.

She'd been allergic to seafood forever. Couldn't touch anything from the ocean. But Mira? Obsessed with shrimp, crab, fish—so that's what was always on the table. Sasha survived on toast and boiled veggies, still got slammed for being "too picky."

In public, Mira played the sweet, worried sister. Behind closed doors? She mocked, shoved, slapped.

Then came the waterworks. Mira would cry, twist everything, whine about how she was the victim.

Donald and Diana didn't blink. They made Sasha kneel in the rain all night.

After that, Sasha stopped fighting. Gave Mira whatever she wanted and kept her head down.

In her last life, the only thing Sasha fought for was Vincent.

And look how that turned out.

This time? She was done. No more fights. No more proving anything. No more love. Just her, living for herself.

Sasha grabbed her meds solo, prescription in hand, and headed out. The pharmacy sat behind the hospital, just past a garden and fountain.

Right as she hit the path—blockade. Mira.

"Wow, already walking? Guess you weren't that messed up," Mira sneered. "Anyway, Mom and Dad are backing me. So even if you whine to Vincent about being THE ONE who stuck by him, it won't matter. Spare yourself the drama."

Sasha didn't flinch.

"Relax. I'm over Vincent. You can have it all."

Mira's grin stretched wider, drunk on the power.

"Have? Babe, I don't need you to give me anything. I take what I want. You? You live off my leftovers. You'll never win—not in this life."

Sasha wasn't about to play Mira's game. She turned to leave.

Mira scowled, ready to snap again—then froze. Someone familiar was walking down the corridor.

In a blink, she yanked Sasha's wrist and dragged her into the fountain.

Neither of them could swim.

They splashed, kicked, screamed for help.

Sasha's stitches ripped open. Blood spread fast.

Freezing water shot up her nose—she choked, coughing hard.

Her body gave out. Everything burned, then went numb. She sank.

Right before it all went black, she saw Vincent sprinting toward the fountain—then diving in.

He swam right past her—didn't even look her way—and dragged Mira to the edge.

Mira, eyes red and watery, collapsed into his arms. She peeked back at Sasha, still sinking, then threw on a worried face.

"She... She pushed me in by accident," she said sweetly. "Vincent, she's my only sister. Can you get her too?"

Vincent's face iced over. He glanced at Sasha, flailing and half-submerged.

"Mira, don't defend her. She clearly tried to drown you, then jumped in for show. If she wants to play the victim, let her soak in it."

Every word cut deep.

Her face burned purple, lungs empty. A sharp ringing swallowed everything. The world smeared and tilted.

Through the blur, she saw Vincent carrying Mira away.

Then darkness.

A blast of cold air snapped Sasha awake. She shook hard as she opened her eyes.

Donald and Diana loomed over her, faces tight with fury.

"Are you insane?" Diana snapped. "How dare you shove Mira into the water? Were you trying to kill her and steal Vincent? As long as we're alive, that'll never happen."

Donald's voice hit just as hard. "You'll never compare to your sister. You're not worthy of Vincent. Face it and quit the fantasy."

Their yelling cut colder than the water. Sasha's chest tightened, eyes filling with something heavier than tears—pure, bone-deep despair.

But the pain? It finally cracked wide open.

"Not worthy? SHE'S worthy?" Her voice shook. "If you hadn't lied and faked everything, Vincent wouldn't have looked at her twice. You stole what was mine and handed it to her. Doesn't that shame you at all?"

Diana flushed. Donald's hand flew.

The slap snapped her head sideways.

"You ungrateful brat!" he barked. "We gave you life. Everything you have came from us. If we wanna take it and hand it to Mira, we will. You think you get a say? You dare speak the truth again—just try it and see what happens—"

The door slammed open.

Vincent stepped in, frowning. "The truth? What truth?"

Donald and Diana jolted, scrambling to cover.

"W-We were just disciplining her," Donald stammered. "Trying to get her to admit she pushed Mira."

"She won't confess no matter what," Diana added quickly. "We're furious—don't even know how to punish her."

They shot each other a quick look, smoothly dodging the topic.

Vincent didn't think much of it. His stare landed on Sasha—cold, sharp.

"Still won't own up? Lock her in the morgue. Let her out when she figures out what she did wrong."

Donald and Diana nodded like it was genius, then waved the guards in without hesitation.

Sasha clutched her burning cheek, eyes blank, checked out.

Fighting back would only make it worse. So she didn't. Let them drag her off.

The morgue was a freezer. Bone-deep cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking like crazy.

Her mind drifted, foggy and frayed.

She saw flashes of the old Scythe estate—those stormy nights when she and Vincent huddled together under one coat. He'd pull her close, hold her hand tight, whisper over and over, "I'm here. You're safe."

Those memories stabbed sharper than the cold.

Minutes blurred. Her stomach screamed, her body numb. She could barely think.

Then the door creaked open.

Vincent stepped in, expression stone-cold, eyes cutting.

"You've been in here a full day and night. Ready to admit what you did?"

Sasha stayed curled up, voice raw and rasping. "I admit it. I was wrong."

He looked satisfied.

She wobbled to her feet and walked out, whispering to herself. 'Wrong for believing you'd be with me. Wrong for ever falling for you.'