My arms burned where the embers had struck, the pain sharp and persistent—but I barely cared. I returned to my bedroom, pulled the first-aid kit from the drawer, soaked cotton with alcohol, and pressed it against the raw skin. The sting hit hard, stealing the air from my lungs.

Still… it wasn’t anywhere near as painful as watching the man I loved erase me, little by little.

There was a time when Ethan hovered over me like I was fragile glass. Even the smallest cut sent him into a panic. He’d grab my hand, drag me off to the infirmary, his face pale as if he were the one bleeding out. I used to tease him for being ridiculous, but deep down, I cherished it. He made me feel treasured. Chosen.

Now… he didn’t even see the burns on my arm.

He didn’t ask.

Didn’t pause.

He simply walked away—Liora tucked safely at his side.

That night, I finally let myself break. The tears I’d been holding back slipped free, trailing down my cheeks and dripping onto my injured skin. The sting was immediate and vicious. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. But even that sharp pain couldn’t compare to the dull, crushing ache spreading through my chest.

---

The following two days made one thing painfully clear: I had already fallen out of Ethan’s world.

Liora stayed glued to him, clinging as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. She followed him everywhere.

At the dining table, she leaned toward him with a pout, nudging his arm playfully. “Ethan, can you feed me the shrimp? Please? It tastes better when you do it.”

I sat across from them in silence, pushing food around my plate, while Ethan actually lifted the shrimp and brought it to her lips. She smiled, pleased, leaning into his shoulder—completely unbothered by my presence.

Later, while a movie played softly in the background, she curled up against his chest on the couch. “Hold me tighter,” she murmured. “The loud scenes scare me.”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

Every time I passed by, Liora would tilt her head and smile at me—sweet, sugary, sharp. “Mira, you promised, didn’t you? You said you wouldn’t mind if we acted close like this.”

Each time, I answered the same way. A small smile. A gentle tone.

“Of course not.”

Eventually, I wasn’t sure whether I was lying to her—or to myself.

What I couldn’t deny was that my body was failing faster than I wanted to admit.

Liora was meant to be my donor. My cousin. My blood. The only person who could save me. Yet she treated it like a bargaining chip, dangling my survival just out of reach, enjoying the control.

---

That evening, I stood in front of the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back. Pale. Thin. Unsteady. I realized I might soon lose the strength to even stand.

That was when I decided.

Before my body completely gave up, I wanted one final photograph.

A picture for my funeral.

So even if Ethan forgot my face someday, he would still see me once more—smiling, breathing, alive.

At the photo studio, the photographer smiled kindly. “You have such delicate features, miss. Is this picture for an ID? Or a graduation photo?”

I looked straight into the lens. My voice was calm, detached. “It’s for my funeral.”

His hands trembled so badly I thought the camera might slip. He didn’t ask anything else. I stayed still, endured the flash, and told myself this would be the image placed beside my coffin.

While waiting for the print, laughter drifted in from the entrance.

I froze.

I knew that sound—Ethan’s low chuckle, threaded with Liora’s bright giggle.

I turned and saw them walking in together, arms linked, looking every bit like a couple out on a casual date. Liora noticed me and widened her eyes. “Mira? What are you doing here?”

I slipped the photo into my pocket. “Just needed one for my ID,” I replied evenly. “What about you?”

She leaned her head against Ethan’s shoulder, soft and affectionate. “Couples should have albums, don’t you think? We took photos a few days ago. We’re here to pick them up.”

Ethan glanced at me quickly. “She really wanted it. I just went along with it. Once you recover, we can do one too.”

I nodded, saying nothing, my chest tightening.

The staff called them over to view their pictures. I tried to step away, but Liora caught my wrist. “Mira, help us choose. You have better taste.”

Before I could refuse, she pulled me over.

The screen lit up.

Photo after photo of them together—hands entwined, smiles effortless. In one image, they kissed under a glowing sunset. In another, Ethan wrapped his arms around her from behind, both dressed in white, looking perfectly matched.

Each image pierced me.

Liora’s voice rang beside me, bright and cutting. “Which one do you think makes us look happiest?”

I opened my mouth—

And then chaos erupted.

A loud crash echoed through the studio as shelves toppled over.

Ethan reacted instantly, throwing himself over Liora, shielding her completely.

I wasn’t so lucky.

The sharp edge of a metal shelf slammed into my shoulder. Pain exploded through me as fabric tore and warm blood spilled down my arm.

“Ethan, it hurts!” Liora cried, clutching her arm where there was barely a mark.

He panicked immediately. “You’re bleeding. We need to go to the hospital.” He scooped her into his arms and rushed for the exit.

He paused once.

Turned back.

His eyes met mine—me pinned beneath the shelf, blood pooling as I struggled to pull myself free. Our gazes locked for a second… maybe two.

Then he looked away.

And left.

I dragged myself upright, shaking, and made my way to the hospital alone.

As the doctor stitched my wound, he frowned. “Why didn’t someone bring you here? You lost a lot of blood. This could’ve been dangerous.”

I clenched my teeth as the needle pierced my skin. “There was no one to bring me.”

He hesitated. “That’s odd. A young woman came in earlier with a small scrape. Her boyfriend was frantic—demanded extra tests.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “That man… was my boyfriend too.”

The doctor froze. He didn’t ask anything else. He finished in silence.

Late that night, as I struggled to change my bandage alone, the door finally opened.

Ethan stepped inside—and stopped short.

His eyes widened when he saw the wound. “Mira… what happened to you?” His voice broke as he rushed toward me.

I didn’t lift my head. “I bumped into the shelf. That’s all.”

His hand froze midair, fingers trembling like he wanted to touch me but didn’t dare. “Everything happened so fast,” he said hoarsely. “Liora was sobbing. People were shouting. I thought she was seriously injured. I panicked, Mira. I never meant to walk away from you.”

I curved my lips into something that barely counted as a smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She needed someone. You went to her.”

“No.” He caught my hand suddenly, holding it as if he was afraid I might disappear if he loosened his grip. His palm was warm, his hold tight, almost frantic. “Listen to me. You’ve got it all twisted. I’m only being careful with her because she’s the donor match. That’s it. You’re the one I care about. You’ve always been the one. Don’t shut me out like this.”

My eyes stung, heat gathering behind them. “I know,” I whispered. “That’s why I never blamed you.”

The tension drained from his face like water spilling from a cracked cup. He leaned closer, focusing on the cut as he cleaned it, wrapping fresh gauze around my arm with careful, practiced movements. “You should lie down. I’ll stay. I won’t go anywhere tonight.”

For a brief second, as his fingers worked gently and his presence filled the room, I almost let myself believe we’d slipped backward in time—to when he hovered over me, to when leaving wasn’t even an option for him.

Then his phone rang.

“Ethan…” Liora’s voice came through the speaker, thick with tears. “I don’t see you anywhere. I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone…”

Guilt twisted across his features. “I’m coming. Right now.”

He ended the call and turned toward me, conflict written all over his face. “She’s by herself. She’s really shaken. I’ll just go check on her. Once she falls asleep, I’ll come straight back. I promise.”

And then he was gone—moving so quickly it felt like he carried the last trace of warmth out of the room with him.

I folded in on myself on the bed, knees drawn tight to my chest, breathing shallow and uneven. The ache wasn’t just in my body. It spread deeper than that. Ethan didn’t come back that night. Or the next. Two days passed. At first, I kept glancing at the door, listening for footsteps that never arrived. Eventually, I stopped waiting. I took my medication on schedule. I replaced the dressing on my arm when it soaked through. I learned how to recover quietly, tucked away in my own corner of the world.

…

That afternoon, I sat near the window with a book resting unopened on my legs. Sunlight poured in, soft and golden, but my eyes couldn’t bear it for long. My phone vibrated on the table. When I answered, her voice flowed out smoothly.

“Hey, Mira. Want to hear something interesting?” Liora sounded delighted, that sugary tone of hers making my stomach tighten. She was enjoying this. “Did you know Ethan almost died for me?”

My fingers stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

She laughed, light and pleased with herself. “I casually mentioned that necklace they award to the winner of the motorcycle stunt competition. He signed up instantly. No hesitation at all. You should’ve seen him—he was flying down the track like he didn’t care if he lived or died. The bike nearly flipped. When they rushed him into emergency, guess what he yelled?” Her voice quivered with excitement. “He called my name. Not yours. Mine.”

The book slid shut in my lap. I turned toward the window, staring at the harsh brightness outside, refusing to let her hear my voice crack. “So he got himself hurt just to make you happy,” I said quietly.

“Mhm,” she breathed, dragging the sound out. “He needs someone to look after him now. I thought maybe you’d want to come?”

I exhaled slowly, my chest loosening in a strange, empty way. “No, Liora. He’s your choice, isn’t he? He risked himself for you. So you should be the one by his side.”

She didn’t answer right away. The pause was too long, too telling. Before she could speak again, I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the couch like it had burned me.

Outside, the trees swayed gently, leaves brushing against one another with a soft whisper. I watched them until my vision blurred. Then I picked my phone up again.

My fingers moved on their own, dialing a number I’d memorized long ago.

“Hello?” a man answered.

“Yes,” I said evenly. “I’m calling about the double burial plot—Section B, Lot Twelve. I wanted to ask—”

The door slammed open so violently I flinched, nearly dropping the phone.

“Mira!”

I looked up—and my breath stopped.

Ethan stood in the doorway, deathly pale in a striped hospital gown. Thick bandages wrapped his chest, already darkening with blood that spread wider every time he inhaled. His lips were drained of color, but his eyes burned fiercely, almost wild.

The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. “Ethan, what are you doing here? You should still be admitted!”

He staggered forward, gripping the doorframe to stay upright. “Why?” he demanded, voice shaking. “Why were you asking about a grave?”

I forced my mouth into a smile, even as my heart skipped painfully. “You misunderstood. Mrs. Han’s dog died last night. She didn’t know who else to ask for help. That’s all. Really.” I sounded so calm that I nearly convinced myself.

His shoulders drooped, but pain twisted his expression. He leaned heavily against the wall. “Motorcycle accident,” he muttered.

I rushed to his side, steadying him. “Don’t say another word. We’re going back to the hospital right now.”

In the car, his head rested against the seat, lashes fluttering like a child who’d exhausted himself fighting sleep. I watched him quietly, memorizing the lines of his face, the familiar curve of his lips. My voice shook so faintly it felt like the wind carried it away. “This is the last time I’ll worry about you, Ethan. After today… I’ll already be gone.”

…

At the hospital, I handled everything—signed forms, adjusted his blanket, stayed until his breathing evened out and he slipped into sleep. Then I stepped into the hallway and made a call.

“Liora,” I said calmly. “Can you come by in the morning? I need to take care of something important.”

She laughed softly, music and chatter echoing behind her. “I’m out right now. I’ll come tomorrow, okay? Don’t sound so dramatic.”

Morning arrived.

Liora walked in carrying an expensive handbag, hair flawless, makeup immaculate. She looked like she was attending a fashion event, not visiting a hospital.

I smiled faintly. “You came.”

She tilted her head, smirking. “Of course. I wanted to see you. But let’s stop pretending, Mira. I’m never giving you my bone marrow. Why would I? I only want Ethan. Honestly, I’d rather you disappear.” Her voice rang loud enough to draw glances from the nurses.

“I know,” I replied gently. “You want me dead. Then take him. Look after him yourself.”

Something in my calmness snapped her restraint. She seized my arm, nails digging deep into my skin. “Don’t act innocent,” she hissed. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty.”

She shook me hard. Pain shot through me, but I clenched my teeth and stayed silent.

The commotion woke Ethan.

Liora released me instantly, slapped her own face, and collapsed into sobs. “Ethan! Mira hit me!” she cried. “She’s jealous of me. She demanded my bone marrow while you were asleep. She tried to force me into surgery. When I refused, she slapped me!” She covered her face, sobbing violently, her shoulders shaking as the room filled with her cries.

My eyes went wide. “That’s not true! Ethan, you have to listen—she—”

“Enough!” Ethan roared, yanking the IV from his arm as if it were nothing and storming toward me. His face was ghostly pale, fury written in every line. His grip on my arm was so tight it burned, and before I could react, his hand came down sharply across my cheek. I stumbled, hit the floor hard, and warm blood flowed freely from my nose.

His voice cracked, raw and full of emotion, as he yelled, “Is this really who you’ve become, Mira? Forcing Liora like that? You couldn’t wait? Why are you like this? You’re not the girl I loved… you’ve changed. Ugh—ugly.”

Behind him, Liora pressed her hands to her mouth, sobbing like a broken little angel. But I noticed the twitch of her lips—the corner curling into a smile beneath the tears.

I pressed my sleeve to my nose, letting the blood soak through, and didn’t respond. There was nothing left to argue. Slowly, painfully, I got to my feet. My knees were weak, my body trembling, but I walked out anyway.

At the doorway, I heard his voice shift, soft, warm—the tone I hadn’t heard in months. “Liora… don’t cry. I’m here. I’ll protect you. And as for Mira… I’ll make sure she pays when I’m discharged.”

I let a bitter smile creep across my lips and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand.

By the time I got home, my face still stung, my nose wet, my body heavy with exhaustion, I just collapsed onto the couch. Everything ached. I wrapped my hand in a towel and tried to steady my breathing. I was barely holding myself together when the doorbell rang.

My heart jumped. Who could it possibly be now? I stumbled to the door, opened it—and froze. My mother. The woman who had vanished from my life when I was a baby, standing there like she owned the world. She looked smaller than I remembered, shrunk by time, worn down at the edges—but the moment she saw me, she dropped her bag and ran, grabbing me so fast I almost fell over.

She held me like she’d been waiting her whole life for this hug, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God… my baby… my Mira… I found you.” She whispered it like a prayer. My knees buckled under the weight of her arms, and I sank onto the couch, every detail of the world blurring for a moment.

But then her face changed—terror replacing joy. “What… what happened? Why are you bleeding?” Her voice shook.

I pressed the towel to my nose, my voice barely a whisper. “I have aplastic anemia… I need a bone marrow donor. I—” My words broke in my throat, and I coughed before finishing.

Paleness swept over her face. She grasped both my hands tightly as if holding onto me would stop the world from spinning. “I’ll give you mine,” she said urgently, almost pleading. “But you have to come with me—come to Europe, live with me and your brothers. Please, Mira. Say you’ll come.”

I stared at her, chest tightening, words heavy on my tongue. “You left me,” I said softly, but each word was steady. “You left me with Grandma. You vanished. How am I supposed to just… pack up and trust you now?”

Her head dropped, the sound she made so full of remorse it stabbed straight through me. “I worked abroad to send money home,” she explained, voice trembling. “Then I had an accident… lost my memory… started over by mistake. I only remembered last year. I’ve spent months trying to find you. I’m so sorry it took this long. I never stopped being your mother, Mira. Never.”

I wanted to believe her, wanted to feel that relief and bolt into her arms, but my chest felt hollow, betrayal still sticky and raw. I whispered, “I need to think. I just… met you today. I can’t decide yet.”

She nodded, as if she expected nothing else, and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Call me when you’re ready,” she said softly, leaving a trembling smile and a number behind before stepping away.

I barely lowered my head when the back gate exploded with noise. Five men stormed in without a single knock. They seized me, threw a blanket over my shoulders, and dragged me into the yard like I was nothing but a sack. I screamed, tried to fight, but my limbs were weak, the rain soaked me through, and the world turned loud and humiliating.

One of them leaned close, voice spitting out like venom. “Boss says you sleep outside tonight. Punishment… for hurting Miss Liora.”

I pounded on the door, tears mixing with rain. “Please! I’m sick! I need my medication!” I begged. They shoved me harder. One of them laughed as water ran down my face and soaked my clothes.

My phone rang, trembling in my numb fingers. Ethan. I fumbled it open, barely able to speak, and his voice came flat, detached, like a judge delivering a verdict. “Mira… listen. Your transplant was scheduled for tomorrow. But after what you did to Liora… she can’t. She’s too upset, too traumatized. She won’t stop crying. Think about that, Mira.” The line clicked dead.

Rain mixed with my tears. I curled into myself on the cold, wet grass, clutching the phone like it was the only thing keeping me alive. My fingers moved clumsily over the screen as I dialed the number my mother had left.

After a long, wet pause, her sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mom…” I whispered into the storm, teeth chattering, voice shaking. “Please… come. I’ll go with you. I’ll go to Europe, anywhere with you. Please… get me out of here.”