No clue how long it went on.

When it finally stopped, I was soaked, gasping like I'd nearly drowned.

Viviana ripped the gauze out and tossed it like trash.

"Why?" I panted. "Viviana, what did I do? Why do you hate me?"

She stared down, eyes cold. "I don't get why they even brought you back. You were already gone. Lost things should stay lost. And useless people? They shouldn't exist."

She slammed the door.

Her words echoed—

'Stay lost... Useless...Shouldn't exist...'

But I'm their real daughter.

Was it my fault I was taken?

Now I'm finally home, and I'm not even wanted?

Everything spun. I blacked out.

No clue how long passed before I heard her voice outside.

"Antonio, will you stay with me tonight?"

Through the glass, I saw her wrap an arm around his neck, all flirty and fake.

Antonio shoved her off. "I told you—I only love Emilia. She's it for me. We're getting married. Back off."

He walked away without a glance.

I stood frozen, head spinning.

He says he loves me.

So why won't he believe me?

Why let Viviana play doctor while I'm the one getting crushed under it all?

If he ever finds out she's the reason I'm dying...

Would he even care?

Or just regret picking the wrong side too late?

My chest felt ripped open. I shut the door quietly and slipped back to my room.

Pulled the papers from under my bed.

Stage IV lung cancer.

The words hit like a punch.

Three days, the doctor said.

Three days left.

The wedding's in three days.

Guess I won't be there.

I gave a bitter smile and started packing.

Everything was a memory of Antonio.

The clay doll we made—his was hideous, and I roasted him for days.

Our first movie ticket, tucked in my journal.

The necklace he gave me, promising he'd always care.

The sweeter the memory, the deeper it cut.

I boxed it all up, silent tears slipping down.

After packing, I headed downstairs.

My parents were already at the table, loading Viviana's plate.

Dad smiled when he saw me. "Emilia, come eat."

Mom chimed in, all sweet, "You need to eat more, honey. You're not well."

I nodded and sat.

One glance at the food—every dish was Viviana's favorite.

Nothing I could touch with my diagnosis.

I set my fork down. "Mom, Dad, I need to talk to you."

Dad looked up. "What is it?"

"Can we pause treatment for a couple days?" I asked. "I just want to focus on the wedding."

Dad's face dropped. "No. Treatment can't stop."

Antonio tried to soften it. "Your health comes first, Emilia. I'll handle the wedding. You just need to be the most beautiful bride."

Viviana gave her fake sorry face. "If it weren't for the pain from the new plan, you wouldn't be fighting it so hard..."

But her eyes said something else—'See? You still can't run.'

Dad jumped in. "Viviana's not at fault. She's helping you. You can't skip. What if something happens at the wedding?"

Mom nodded. "Exactly. Listen to your sister. One session a day. No skipping. Be good."

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.

'If you knew each treatment was killing me faster, would you still push me?'

Viviana walked over, smiling. "Time for your treatment."

"No—" I flinched.

"Emilia, stop," Antonio snapped. "It's for your own good."

Mom and Dad chimed in, "Listen to us, Emilia."

"If you keep this up, we'll postpone the wedding," they warned, annoyed.

Before, I would've fought. Thrown a fit.

They knew how much I loved Antonio—how much I wanted this wedding.

But now, I just bit my lip and cried quietly.

It's not the pain I'm scared of.

It's losing the little time I have left.

Three days. This could steal even that.

What if I don't make it out of that room? What if this is goodbye?

Mom saw my tears and wiped them gently. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Be good. It won't hurt after."

Viviana smiled, took my arm, and yanked me upstairs. "Let's go, Emilia."

She leaned in, voice low and sweet.

"Resist again, and I'll crank it so high you'll scream."

I looked at Antonio, begging him to see something—but he just told me to stay strong.

Viviana dragged me to the lab and strapped me down.

She picked up a syringe, voice icy.

"Stage IV hurts, huh? Since you're dying anyway, let's test something."

She jabbed the needle in and pushed the drug.

Cold shot through my veins. My vision blurred.

Pain exploded, my body locking up.

'Am I dying?

'Is this it? Will I never see Mom, Dad... Antonio again?'

When I came to, I was back in my hospital bed.

Outside, Viviana's voice slipped through the door. "Antonio, I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened—maybe an allergic reaction or something."

His voice cut like ice. "An allergic reaction? Viviana, what the hell were you thinking giving her untested meds? She's barely hanging on as it is!"

Viviana's voice cracked. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I just wanted her to get better fast, be strong for the wedding. I didn't think she'd react like that..."

Antonio let out a tired sigh. "Be more careful. She's too fragile for this. Don't screw up again."

That was it?

He let her off that easy?

Not even a second opinion?

If he brought in literally anyone else, he'd see—I'm actually dying.

My chest burned with that ugly twist of betrayal. I shut my eyes as tears slid down.

But even if he knew... what would it change? I'd still be gone.

The door creaked open. Antonio stepped in.

His face softened when he saw me awake. "Emilia, hey. How're you feeling?"

I shook my head. "What'd the doctor say?"

His eyes flickered. Fake smile, locked in. "Nothing major. Just stress. Stick to the treatment, you'll be okay."

I looked away, swallowing the bitterness. He wasn't worried about me—just scared I'd blame Viviana.

He tried to change the subject. "Wedding's in two days. Your dress is ready—they want you to try it on."

I nodded. I knew I'd never walk down that aisle, but maybe slipping into the dress, snapping a few pics... it'd be something.

My throat tightened. I blurted, "If I died... would you miss me?"

His face fell. He grabbed my hand, full panic. "Don't say that. You're not dying."

"But what if I do? I have lung canc—"

"Mr. Santoro! Dr. Bellanti fainted!" a nurse shouted from the hall.

Antonio froze—then bolted.

I stared at the door, numb.

***

Antonio never came back.

I got up and cracked the door open, catching a nurse in the hallway. "Where's Antonio?"

"He's with Dr. Bellanti," she said.

I clenched my jaw and pulled out my phone.

Viviana had just posted.

Photo: her and Antonio at some fancy restaurant, all smiles.

Caption: [Finally made it to the place I've always wanted to try! Thank you, Mr. Santoro.]

My hands shook. The phone slipped and hit the floor.

Pain stabbed through my chest. I coughed—blood.

Antonio... if you knew I was dying, would you stay?

Would you still choose her over me in my final hours?

***

After popping my pain meds, I left the hospital.

Didn't go home—went straight to the bridal shop. Tried on the dress. It hung a little loose, but in the mirror, I looked beautiful.

A staff member knelt to fix the hem. "Ms. Bellanti, you're so thin. It's not healthy. We've had to resize this dress so many times. You look even slimmer today."

That one stung.

Even a stranger could tell I was fading. But my own family? My fiancé? Clueless.

***

I left with the dress, heading home. I needed Antonio to see me in it.

Because if he didn't see me now... he never would.

The second I walked in, I saw them—Antonio and Viviana—sitting on the couch, tense.

Viviana's eyes flashed something nasty.

Antonio stood, voice sharp. "Emilia, did you report Viviana for screwing up your meds and causing your collapse?"

I froze. "What report?"

"Don't play dumb." His voice got sharper. "The hospital got a formal complaint about Viviana's meds. Who else would file it?"

"Antonio, don't talk to her like that," Viviana said gently. "Emilia, I know I messed up the treatment, and I'm sorry. But a report? That could destroy everything. I could lose my license."

My whole body went cold.

They'd already made up their minds. Guilty—without even asking.

"I didn't," I said.

Antonio's jaw tightened. "Still lying? You've been after Viviana for a while. Want me to list everything you've pulled? Why do you keep attacking her? She's your sister."

He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward my room.

"You need to think about what you've done. Stay in here until you get it."

Then the door slammed shut.

I sat on the floor, knees to my chest, silent. Tears slid down, sinking into the wood.

Then came the blood.

I touched my face—nose, mouth, both bleeding.

It soaked into the white of my wedding dress.

I closed my eyes and collapsed, vision tilting toward the clock on the wall.

Eight hours left.

Almost free.

***

That night before dinner, Antonio glanced up at the locked room, eyes clouded with doubt. "I should check on Emilia."

Emilia's parents—Riccardo and Francesca—nodded.

"Go for it. Last thing we need is her passing out before the wedding."

"Wait!" Viviana jumped in. "Already handled it. I sent someone up with food."

She grabbed his arm, voice soft but firm. "Don't cave now. She'll just twist it, like always. Let her learn—she can't keep acting like a brat."

Antonio kept staring at the door, something gnawing at him. But after a beat, he dropped back into his seat.

"...Alright."

***

The next morning, Antonio was up early, getting ready for the wedding. The Bellanti house was full-on buzzing.

Just before they headed out, Riccardo and Francesca nudged him.

"Why's Emilia so quiet? Don't tell me she's still sulking 'cause she hasn't said sorry."

"It's time. Go check on her."

Antonio headed upstairs.

He froze at the top. Something about the silence felt... off.

His gut twisted. He shoved it down and pushed the door open.

The second it cracked, the sharp, metallic sting of blood punched him in the face.

The white wedding dress—drenched in red.

He looked up. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the floor like some sick painting.

His chest locked up. No air. No logic.

"Emilia!"