I Was Dying While You Chose Her

I was by myself in the hospital when the doctor finally said the words out loud.

Alina, the treatment on your bone marrow isnt responding anymore. Transfusions will only delay things. You need a transplant as soon as possible, or your organs will start failing.

I just nodded. Like I was processing it. Like I was still fully there. But I wasnt.

My hands were trembling when I reached for my phone and dialed Viktor. My husband. Five years of marriage. A mafia king everyone fearedsomeone who could make people disappear with a single order. The same man who was supposed to be mine in a way no one else could ever be.

The line rang.

Once. Twice. Again.

Then it cut off.

I tried calling again, but it didnt even bother ringing anymore.

My throat tightened as I stared at the screen, waiting like there was still something to hope for. Like an idiot who didnt know better.

Instead, Instagram opened on its own.

A post.

From her.

My twin sister.

Same womb, different world. The one who left because she always said she deserved morebetter cities, better opportunities, better everything. The one who never bothered hiding how much she resented that I had him first.

She was smiling in the picture, soft and almost innocent, her fingers loosely tangled with a mans hand.

I knew that hand.

I knew that watch too. I was the one who gave it to him.

Viktor.

My stomach dropped before I even read the caption, but I forced myself to anyway.

The man Ive loved in secret is finally mine. Even if this is only borrowed time, I want it to last forever.

My thumb slipped before I could stop it.

I liked the post.

Only after did I realize my face was already wet.

Not even a minute passed before my phone started ringing like it was going to break. His name flashed repeatedly, urgent, almost panicked.

I answered.

Alinadont hang up, he said quickly, voice rough like hed been running. Just listen to me.

I stayed silent.

I already know what you saw, he continued. But its not what it looks like. I swear. She agreed to be your donorbone marrow. She said shed help you. But she had a condition. Just one month. She wanted me to act like her husband during that time. Thats all. I never touched her. I never crossed any line. I did everything for you. Everything, Alina.

My throat burned when I finally spoke. Viktor are you telling me thats true?

Yes, he answered too fast, then softened. Youre my wife. Youre everything to me. I cant lose you. I wont survive it.

A laugh escaped me, but it cracked halfway.

Then why does it sound like you didnt hesitate at all when you agreed?

Silence.

Only his breathing filled the line.

And somehow, that silence hurt more than any denial.

Memories I didnt ask for started flooding in.

Him showing up at three in the morning just because I mentioned my bones were aching and I couldnt sleep. Him returning with greasy street dumplings like it was some grand offering. Him buying me a pair of shoes I casually pointed at once, pretending it was nothing. Him kneeling under fireworks on my birthday, holding a ring like his hands werent shaking.

Wait for me after graduation, he had said then. I want forever with you, Alina.

And I believed him.

Everyone did.

Viktor Calhounmafia boss, merciless to the world, but always gentle when it came to me.

When I was diagnosed six months ago, he never let go of my hand. Not once. He cried harder than I did, like I was already gone.

If you give up, I give up too, he told me. Dont leave me behind.

After that, he searched everywhere. Legit hospitals, underground clinics, black-market doctorsanything. At one point I even caught him trying to donate his own blood, knowing it wouldnt help. I once saw a draft of his will too. He didnt even bother hiding it.

He wasnt afraid of dying.

And then there was her.

He paid her.

One hundred million pesos. Clean transfer. No hesitation. Mafia money moving like nothing.

For her studies. Her future. Her so-called freedom.

But apparently, that still wasnt enough.

Because she didnt just want money.

She wanted him.

And the worst part washe gave her that too. Even if he keeps insisting its still for me.

For the fourth time in six months, my twin backed out again.

There was always an excuse. Always another delay. And every time, Viktor ended up by her side like she was the one slipping away.

First timeshe fainted. Said her sugar dropped. He stayed in her hospital room for three nights. Didnt come home. Didnt even send a message.

Second timeshe claimed she couldnt sleep. Anxiety attacks, nightmares. He sat through her therapy sessions, holding her hand until morning like he belonged there.

Third timefever. The same day I collapsed during treatment, nurses calling his name over and over. He still left. Went straight to her.

And now this.

A new condition.

If he agreed to be her husband for one month, she would finally donate.

Just one month.

I was already in bed when he told me. My hands were shaking so badly I had to grip the blanket just to steady myself.

Viktor, I said, forcing my voice not to break. It still did anyway. Just pay her more. Double it. Triple it. I dont care. Dont agree to her conditions. Please. Just make her do the transplant.

There was a pause.

I heard him inhale slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully.

Alina we already owe her too much, he said at last. I cant pressure her. Shes helping you. We should be thankful.

Something inside me snapped clean.

Owe her? My voice rose despite me trying to stop it. One hundred million isnt enough? Or is there something else you feel like you owe her?

He didnt answer.

Instead, I heard her in the backgroundsoft, sweet, perfectly staged.

Viktor I burned my hand! It hurts come here

His voice changed instantly.

Ill call you back, he said quickly. She needs me.

Then the line went dead.

Just like that.

I kept staring at the phone until the screen dimmed. Something in me didnt just hurt anymoreit emptied out completely, like everything had been scraped away and nothing was left behind.

I turned to the doctor.

If I dont get the transplant, I asked quietly, almost like I didnt want the answer, how much time do I really have?

He exhaled, tired, honest.

A month. Maybe less. Your body is deteriorating fast. If we do the transplant soon, theres still a chance. If not

I understand, I cut in softly. Its fine.

I looked away from him.

I wont do it anymore.

Because I knew my sister too well.

She wasnt delaying it by accident.

Every day she stalled meant another day with him. And I was tiredtired of waiting, tired of begging, tired of being the only one still holding on.

That evening, I went back home.

The sky outside was painted gold and soft orange, like the world was pretending to be gentle for once. For a moment, I almost believed it. Almost thought maybe this was how endings were supposed to feelquiet, merciful.

Then I stepped inside.

And what was left of me finally broke.

Viktor was sitting in the living room when I got home.

My twin was tucked against his side, pressed far too close for comfort, casually feeding him slices of fruit as if he already belonged to her. She looked relaxed. Content. Victorious. Like all she had left to do was wait for me to die so she could collect what she thought was hers.

Alina!

Viktor shot to his feet the second he saw me. The expression on his face was a strange mix of relief and guilt. He immediately held out a small gift box.

I bought this for you, he said quickly. If you accept it, then it means you agree. Youll let me stay with her until this is over so she can help you. Please, Alina. Just say yes.

My gaze settled on the box.

I didn't touch it.

Didn't even raise a hand toward it.

I don't want the gift, I replied.

My lips trembled, but I forced my voice to remain steady.

I'll agree anyway.

He blinked in surprise.

You mean that?

Yes.

The single word felt like glass in my throat.

My twin immediately stood and hurried over. She wrapped her fingers around my arm as though we were close sisters again instead of enemies sharing the same blood. Her smile was bright enough to fool anyone who didn't know her.

That's great, she said cheerfully. Then let's get along from now on, okay? No being jealous. Viktor is only helping me experience my dream. He already promised me one month. After that, everything goes back to normal.

Slowly, I removed her hand from my arm.

I won't be jealous.

The tension visibly left Viktor's shoulders.

He immediately disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a bowl of soup. The smile on his face was almost proud, as if we'd just solved everything and become one big happy family.

I made this for you, he said. It's good for rebuilding blood. Eat a little.

The aroma was comforting.

Familiar.

For one stupid moment, I wanted to trust him.

I lifted the spoon and took a sip.

Instantly, fire spread through my throat.

My eyes widened.

No

I grabbed my chest.

Cold sweat broke out across my skin.

Shrimp, I choked out. You put shrimp in this. Viktor, I'm allergic. You know I'm allergic.

His face lost all color.

I thought... He looked horrified. I thought it was peanuts. I got them mixed up.

My twin tilted her head innocently.

No, darling. You're remembering mine. She smiled sweetly. I'm the one allergic to peanuts. I told you that last week, remember?

The room spun.

A sharp pain tore through my chest.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't do anything except stare at him.

He remembered her allergy.

Not mine.

The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me was Viktor shouting my name.

As though it mattered now.

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at another hospital ceiling.

Viktor sat beside the bed.

His eyes were bloodshot, his face exhausted. He was gripping my hand so tightly it almost hurt.

I'm sorry, he blurted out the moment he realized I was awake. It was an accident. Please believe me. I've canceled everything. For the next few days, I'm staying with you. Only you. I swear it won't happen again. Just... please forgive me.

I turned my face away.

You don't have to apologize.

My voice came out quiet.

Your place is already beside her. Just focus on remembering what she likes now. Take care of her.

I paused.

And stay away from me, Viktor. I'm serious.

Panic immediately flashed across his face.

What are you talking about? he demanded. Nothing between us is real. It's just an agreement. One month, that's all. I'm pretending because she's the only one who can save you. Stop making it into something else. You're my wife. You're the person I love.

He reached toward me.

Instead of taking his hand, I pulled the blanket higher.

I'm tired, I whispered. I want to sleep.

His hand lingered awkwardly in the air before dropping back to his side.

After a moment, he stood.

Okay, he said quietly. Get some rest.

The door clicked shut behind him.

For some reason, the sound hurt more than it should have.

The second he was gone, I opened my eyes.

Tears slipped silently into my pillow.

Pointless tears.

Because I already knew the truth.

My time was running out.

Aplastic anemia was slowly consuming me, patient and relentless.

Later that day, I forced myself out of bed.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

I made my way to the closet and pulled out an old dust-covered box hidden behind stacks of forgotten things.

Inside was an entire lifetime.

My lifetime with him.

Movie tickets from our first date.

A cheap bracelet he'd bought from a night market back when he still laughed easily.

Polaroids from happier days, before guns, blood, and mafia business started taking up more space than love.

Every picture showed me smiling.

And in every single one, Viktor's arms were wrapped around me.

My chest ached.

I spent hours sitting on the floor, sorting through every memory.

Touching every insignificant little object as though it would be the last time.

Maybe it was.

When dawn arrived, I carried the box outside.

I lit a small brazier.

Then, one by one, I fed our memories to the flames.

The fire climbed higher.

Photographs curled and blackened.

Promises turned to ash.

Then a furious voice shattered the silence.

What the hell are you doing?!

Before I could react, my twin charged toward me and shoved me hard.

The brazier tipped over.

Burning coals scattered across the ground.

Several landed against my arm.

I gasped as pain shot through me.

Bianca

I stumbled backward, clutching the burn.

She didn't stop.

She lunged toward me again, her eyes blazing with outrage that I knew was completely fake.

If you didn't want me here, you could've just said so! she cried. Why are you burning my things?

To anyone else, she sounded hurt.

To me, she sounded pleased.

The commotion brought Viktor running outside.

The moment he saw her, he rushed straight to her side.

What happened? he asked, pulling her close protectively. Are you okay?

She buried herself against his chest, already crying.

Viktor... she sobbed. She hates me so much. She started burning all my things. Look! She doesn't want me here!

Only then did he look at me.

For the first time in weeks.

My heart stopped.

But what I saw in his eyes wasn't love.

It was disappointment.

Alina... His voice was heavy with disapproval. How could you do something like this? After everything she's sacrificed for you? After agreeing to help with your treatment? This is how you repay her?

I couldn't breathe.

Slowly, I bent down and picked up a half-burned photograph from the ashes.

My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped it.

Look closely.

My voice cracked.

These aren't hers.

I held up the charred photograph.

They're mine. Ours.

It was a picture from the previous winter.

Viktor had wrapped his scarf around my neck because I kept complaining about the cold.

For a moment, his expression froze.

Why... His voice softened. Why would you burn these?

A bitter laugh escaped me.

Because they're ruined.

My eyes stung.

I tossed the photograph back into the fire.

I don't want them anymore.

No. He took a step forward. Alina, these are our memories. You told me we'd look through them together when we were old. Why would you throw them away?

A small, broken smile touched my lips.

Don't you understand, Viktor?

My voice trembled.

I'm dy

Viktor!

My twin's voice cut through mine.

She held up her hand dramatically.

I think I burned it when the brazier fell.

Just like that, I ceased to exist.

His attention left me instantly.

The concern in his eyes vanished from my direction and settled completely on her.

Come inside, he said, taking her hand. I'll put some ointment on it.

With one arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the house.

He never looked back.

Not even once.

My arms throbbed from the burns, but I barely paid attention to them. I made my way back to my room, grabbed the first-aid kit from the cabinet, and soaked a cotton ball with alcohol. The moment it touched my skin, pain shot through me so hard it stole my breath.

Even so, it hurt far less than watching Viktor slowly erase me from his life.

There was a time when the smallest injury would send him into a panic. If I got so much as a paper cut, he'd act as though I'd suffered a life-threatening wound, dragging me off to the infirmary while I laughed at him for being ridiculous. Back then, I secretly adored it. His concern made me feel cherished. Important.

Now, he hadn't even noticed the burns on my arm.

Hadn't asked a single question.

He'd simply turned around and walked away with my sister.

Like I wasn't there.

That night, I lay in bed and finally stopped fighting the tears. They slipped down my cheeks and landed on the burns, making them sting all over again. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, trying to keep myself from crying out loud.

But no physical pain came close to the ache sitting in my chest.

The following days only confirmed what I already knew.

I'd been pushed out of my own place in Viktor's world.

My twin never left his side. She attached herself to him so completely that he couldn't move across a room without her finding an excuse to pull him back.

At dinner, she poked his arm and pouted dramatically.

"Viktor, feed me some shrimp," she whined. "It tastes better when you do."

I sat quietly, moving food around my plate without eating much.

Without hesitation, he picked up the shrimp and fed it to her.

She smiled and leaned against him, completely comfortable.

As if I wasn't sitting right there.

Later that evening, they settled on the couch to watch a movie.

She tucked herself against his chest and whispered, "Hold me tighter. The scary scenes make me nervous."

His arms immediately tightened around her.

No hesitation.

No second thought.

Nothing.

Whenever I happened to walk past them, she'd look up at me with that fake, innocent smile.

"Alina, you promised, didn't you?" she'd ask sweetly. "You don't mind us being close?"

Every time, I forced the same small smile.

"Of course not."

Eventually, it became my answer to everything.

I wasn't even sure anymore whether I was pretending or if I'd simply stopped caring.

The truth was, my body was failing faster every day.

The one person who could save me was my own sister.

The woman who shared my blood.

The woman who was supposed to be my donor.

Instead, she dangled that possibility over my head like a prize, always close enough to see but impossible to reach.

And I kept losing.

---

That evening, I stood in front of the mirror.

The woman staring back barely looked familiar.

My skin had turned pale.

My body looked fragile.

I wasn't even sure how much longer I'd be able to stand on my own.

That's when I made up my mind.

I needed one last photograph.

A picture for my funeral.

If Viktor ever forgot my face completely, at least there would be one image left behind. One version of me that still looked alive.

Still smiling.

Still me.

At the photography studio, the photographer smiled politely.

"You have very elegant features," he said while adjusting the camera. "Is this for an ID? Graduation photo?"

I looked directly into the lens.

Outside, I appeared calm.

Inside, I already felt like a ghost.

"It's for my funeral."

The photographer blinked.

His hands faltered for a moment.

I didn't explain.

Didn't elaborate.

I simply sat there as the flash exploded in front of me and imagined the photograph sitting on top of my coffin one day.

Afterward, I waited near the counter for the printed copy.

Then I heard laughter.

A familiar laugh.

Low.

Warm.

His.

Followed by my sister's bright giggle.

My entire body stiffened.

When I turned around, I saw them entering together.

Arm in arm.

Looking exactly like a happy couple.

"Alina?" My sister widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I slipped the photo into my pocket before she could see it.

"Just had a picture taken for an ID," I replied evenly. "What about you?"

She immediately leaned into Viktor's side.

"We wanted a photo album," she said happily. "We did a photoshoot a few days ago. We're just here to pick up the prints."

Viktor glanced toward me.

"She insisted," he explained. "I only went along with it because she kept asking. When you're healthy again, we can make our own album."

My chest tightened painfully.

Still, I simply nodded.

I couldn't trust my voice.

A staff member called them over to review the photos.

I quietly turned toward the exit.

Before I could leave, my twin grabbed my wrist.

"Come help us choose," she said. "You always have better taste than I do."

Before I could refuse, she pulled me toward the computer screen.

The moment I looked up, I wished I hadn't.

There were dozens of photographs.

Them holding hands.

Them smiling at each other.

Them standing beneath a sunset while he kissed her.

Them dressed in matching white outfits while he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Every picture felt like another knife sliding into my chest.

"Which one do you think is best?" she asked brightly. "Which one looks the happiest?"

I couldn't answer.

My throat had completely closed.

Then suddenly

CRASH!

A deafening sound tore through the studio.

Shelves tipped over.

People screamed.

Everything happened at once.

Viktor immediately threw himself toward my sister, covering her body without even thinking.

Meanwhile, the corner of a falling metal shelf slammed into my shoulder.

Pain exploded through me.

I screamed.

Warm blood soaked through my blouse almost instantly.

"Viktor! It hurts!" my sister cried dramatically, clutching a tiny scratch on her arm.

His face turned white.

"You're bleeding," he said in panic. "We need to get you to a hospital."

Without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms and rushed toward the exit.

For a brief second, he looked back.

Our eyes met.

I was trapped beneath the shelf.

Blood pooled around me.

One second.

Two seconds.

Then he looked away.

And left.

I eventually forced myself to stand.

The room spun around me.

Still, I somehow managed to drag myself to the hospital alone.

The doctor frowned deeply while stitching the wound.

"Why didn't someone bring you in immediately?" he asked. "You lost a significant amount of blood. This injury isn't minor."

I clenched my jaw as the needle pierced my skin.

"I didn't have anyone to bring me."

The doctor hesitated.

Then he said, "That's strange. A young woman came in earlier with nothing more than a small scrape. Her boyfriend was terrified. He demanded every possible test."

A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it.

"That boyfriend was mine too."

The doctor froze.

After that, he didn't ask another question.

He simply finished the stitches in silence.

Late that night, I was sitting in my room changing the dressing on my wound when the bedroom door opened.

Viktor stepped inside.

The moment he saw me struggling with the bandages, he stopped moving.

His eyes immediately landed on the stitched wound.

The color drained from his face.

"Alina..."

His voice cracked.

He crossed the room in seconds.

"What happened to you?"

I didn't bother lifting my head. My attention stayed on the bandage wrapped around my arm.

"The shelf fell on me."

His hand hovered uncertainly over mine before finally settling there. I could feel the tremor in his fingers.

"Everything happened so fast," he said quietly. "Bianca was crying. I thought she'd been seriously injured. I never meant to leave you there."

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

"You made the right choice. She needed you."

His expression tightened immediately.

"No, Alina."

He caught my hand between both of his, holding it so tightly it almost hurt.

"You don't understand. The only reason I've been indulging her is because she's your donor. That's it. You're the woman I love. You always have been. Please stop shutting me out."

My eyes stung.

"I know," I whispered. "That's why I never blamed you."

The tension drained from his face at once. He released a breath as though he'd been holding it for days.

Carefully, he adjusted the dressing on my arm. His touch was gentle, familiar.

"Get some sleep," he murmured. "I'll stay here tonight. I'll watch over you."

For a brief moment, I almost believed him.

With his hands tending to my injuries and his attention focused entirely on me, it felt like stepping back into the past. Back to the days when I never had to wonder whether he'd choose me.

Then his phone rang.

The sharp sound shattered the fragile illusion.

"Viktor..."

Bianca's voice came through the speaker, shaky with manufactured tears.

"I miss you. I'm scared. I can't find you anywhere..."

The guilt on his face appeared instantly.

"I'll be there right away."

The answer came without hesitation.

He ended the call and looked at me, conflicted.

"She's alone at the hospital," he explained. "She's frightened. I'll stay until she falls asleep, then I'll come back. I promise."

And just like that, he was gone.

The room seemed colder the moment the door closed behind him.

I curled into myself on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

My breathing wouldn't settle.

The pain in my body was manageable.

The pain in my heart wasn't.

---

He never came back that night.

Or the next.

At first, I found myself glancing at the clock every few minutes, listening for footsteps in the hallway.

Eventually, I stopped.

I took my medication when I was supposed to.

Changed my bandages.

Rested.

Recovered.

Quietly existing in a corner of a house that no longer felt like mine.

That afternoon, I sat near the window with a book resting in my lap.

Sunlight spilled across the room, warm and golden, but my eyes were too tired to focus on the words.

My phone vibrated.

The moment I answered, Bianca's voice flowed through the speaker.

"Hi, Alina. Want to hear something interesting?"

Her tone was sweet.

Too sweet.

"What is it?" I asked.

She laughed softly.

"Did you know Viktor almost got himself killed because of me?"

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"What are you talking about?"

The amusement in her voice grew stronger.

"I told him I wanted a necklace that was being given away at a motorcycle stunt exhibition. He signed up immediately. Didn't even stop to think about it."

She paused dramatically.

"He was driving so fast the bike nearly flipped. When they rushed him into the emergency room, do you know whose name he was calling?"

My stomach twisted.

"Bianca's."

The word came out of her mouth like a victory parade.

"My name. Not yours."

The book slipped from my hands and landed on the floor.

I turned toward the window.

The sunlight suddenly felt blinding.

My eyes burned, but I refused to let her hear it.

"So he got himself injured to make you happy," I said quietly.

"Mm-hmm."

She practically purred.

"Now he needs someone to take care of him. Maybe you'd like to come?"

I closed my eyes.

Then slowly exhaled.

"No."

The answer surprised even me.

"He's yours, isn't he? You're the one he risked himself for. You should be the one taking care of him."

Silence.

Long enough to feel strange.

Without waiting for another response, I ended the call.

The phone landed on the couch beside me.

For a moment, I simply sat there.

Outside, the trees swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.

I watched them until everything became blurry.

Then I picked up my phone again and dialed a number I'd already memorized.

The call connected after two rings.

"Hello?"

A man's voice.

"Good afternoon," I said calmly. "I'm calling regarding the double grave plot in Section B, Number Twelve. I'd like to ask if"

The front door slammed open so violently that I nearly dropped the phone.

"Alina!"

My heart lurched.

I looked up.

Viktor stood in the doorway.

His face was pale.

He was still wearing a hospital gown beneath a coat, thick bandages wrapped around his chest. Fresh blood had seeped through the dressings.

His lips were colorless.

His eyes were fixed entirely on me.

The phone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

"Viktor!"

I immediately stood.

"You should still be in the hospital!"

He ignored that.

Instead, he staggered toward me.

"Why?"

His voice sounded strained.

"Why were you asking about a grave?"

For one terrifying second, my heart stopped.

Then I forced myself to smile.

"You're misunderstanding."

I bent to retrieve the phone.

"Our neighbor's dog died. They asked me to help arrange something. That's all."

I kept my tone light.

Normal.

He stared at me for several seconds before his shoulders finally relaxed.

Then pain twisted across his face.

"Motorcycle accident," he muttered.

I hurried forward and caught his arm.

"Don't talk."

My concern overrode everything else.

"We're going back to the hospital right now."

---

During the drive, he leaned against the seat with his eyes half-closed.

For the first time in days, he looked vulnerable.

Not like a mafia king.

Not like the powerful man everyone feared.

Just tired.

Exhausted.

Human.

I watched him quietly.

Memorizing him.

The curve of his jaw.

The way his lips parted whenever he exhaled.

The faint crease between his brows.

Every detail.

Because I knew I wouldn't have much time left.

"This is the last time I'll worry about you," I whispered so softly that even the wind nearly stole the words away.

"After this, I'll already be gone."

He never heard me.

---

At the hospital, I handled the paperwork myself.

I signed forms.

Helped settle him into bed.

Adjusted his blanket.

Made sure he was comfortable.

Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

Only then did I step outside into the hallway.

I called Bianca.

She answered after a few rings.

"Bianca," I said. "Come tomorrow morning. There's something important I need to do."

Music and laughter echoed faintly in the background.

She sounded like she was enjoying herself.

"I'm out right now, Alina," she said casually. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Don't sound so dramatic."

The line disconnected.

---

The next morning, she arrived exactly as promised.

A designer handbag hung from her shoulder.

Her makeup was flawless.

Her hair looked like she'd just stepped off a runway.

Nothing about her belonged in a hospital.

I smiled faintly.

"You came."

She tilted her head.

A knowing smile curved her lips.

"Of course I did."

Then her expression sharpened.

"Though if we're being honest, Alina, I'm never donating my bone marrow."

The words came easily.

Cruelly.

"Why would I save you? The only thing I've ever wanted is Viktor. I'd rather watch you disappear."

I nodded.

"I know."

My voice remained calm.

"You've wanted me dead for a long time."

I looked her straight in the eye.

"Then take him. Look after him yourself."

Something flashed across her face.

Anger.

Triumph.

Maybe both.

Suddenly, her hand shot out and clamped around my arm.

Her nails dug into my skin.

Pain shot through me.

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from making a sound.

The movement was enough to wake Viktor.

The moment she noticed him stirring, Bianca released me.

Then, without hesitation, she slapped herself across the face.

The sound cracked through the room.

Tears instantly filled her eyes.

"Viktor!"

She burst into sobs.

"Alina hit me!"

She stumbled backward dramatically.

"She kept begging me for my bone marrow while you were sleeping. When I refused, she slapped me!"

She covered her cheek and cried harder.

The performance was flawless.

And judging by the look on Viktor's face as he opened his eyes, he had already seen enough to believe her.

My eyes widened in disbelief.

"That's not true," I said immediately. "Brent, listen to me. She's making it up."

"Enough."

Viktor's voice cracked through the room like a whip.

Before I could react, he yanked the IV from his arm and swung his legs off the hospital bed. Blood stained the tape wrapped around his wrist, but he didn't seem to notice. He crossed the room in seconds, fury radiating from him.

His fingers clamped around my arm.

The grip was so tight it felt like my skin was burning.

Then his hand struck my face.

The force sent me crashing to the floor.

For a moment, all I could hear was ringing.

Pain exploded through my cheek.

Something warm trickled down my upper lip.

I touched my face and stared at the blood coating my fingertips.

My nose was bleeding.

"Is this what you've become?" Viktor demanded, his voice rough with anger. "Trying to force Bianca into something like that? Couldn't you wait? Couldn't you think about anyone besides yourself for once?"

His breathing was uneven.

His eyes were filled with disappointment.

"You're not the woman I fell in love with anymore, Alina."

The words hit harder than the slap.

"You disgust me."

Behind him, Bianca pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

She looked fragile.

Heartbroken.

Innocent.

But through the curtain of tears, I caught it.

The slight curve at the corner of her lips.

She was enjoying every second of this.

I pressed my sleeve against my nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

Tears slipped down my face, mixing with the blood.

But I didn't defend myself.

What was the point?

Nothing I said would matter.

There was nothing left to explain.

Nothing left worth fighting for.

Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet.

My legs trembled beneath me.

Without another word, I walked toward the door.

Just before I stepped out of the room, I heard Viktor speak again.

This time his voice was gentle.

Patient.

Protective.

The same tone he used to reserve only for me.

"Bianca, don't cry."

The tenderness in his voice nearly broke me.

"I'm here now. No one's going to hurt you."

I paused.

His next words reached me before the door closed.

"Once I'm discharged, I'll deal with Alina."

I smiled.

A hollow, bitter smile.

Then I wiped my tears away and kept walking.

---

By the time I reached home, my cheek still stung.

My nose hadn't completely stopped bleeding either.

Every inch of me ached.

The moment I stepped inside, I collapsed onto the couch.

I pressed a towel against my face and closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the pain.

Then the doorbell rang.

The sound startled me.

For a brief, foolish second, I wondered if Viktor had come after me.

Slowly, I forced myself upright and shuffled toward the front door.

When I opened it, I froze.

A woman stood on the doorstep.

For a moment, I didn't recognize her.

Then realization hit.

My mother.

The woman who had abandoned me when I was still a baby.

She looked older than the version I'd imagined all these years.

Smaller too.

Life had clearly worn her down.

The second she saw me, her bag slipped from her shoulder and hit the ground.

Then she rushed forward.

Her arms wrapped around me so tightly that I nearly lost my balance.

"My baby," she sobbed.

Her voice broke completely.

"Alina... I finally found you."

My knees weakened.

The two of us sank onto the couch together.

Everything felt unreal.

She pulled back just enough to look at me.

The moment she noticed the blood and bruises, panic flooded her face.

"What happened to you?" she cried. "Why are you hurt?"

I pressed the towel more firmly against my nose.

"I have aplastic anemia."

The words came out barely above a whisper.

"I need a bone marrow transplant."

The color drained from her face.

She grabbed both my hands.

"I'll do it."

Her voice shook.

"I'll donate if I'm a match. We'll leave together. Come to Europe with me. Your brothers are there. You can live with us. Please, Alina. Come home with me."

My chest tightened painfully.

"You left me."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

"You left me and Bianca with Grandma. Then you disappeared."

I looked straight at her.

"How am I supposed to trust you now?"

Her expression changed instantly.

Confusion flickered across her face.

"Bianca?"

She blinked.

"Who's Bianca?"

I frowned.

"My twin sister."

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

"My fraternal twin. You left both of us behind."

Her grip loosened.

Then her hands started trembling.

"No."

She shook her head slowly.

"Alina... you don't have a twin."

My heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"I only gave birth once."

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"There was only one baby."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"You."

The room seemed to tilt sideways.

My stomach dropped.

"No," I whispered. "Grandma always told us we were twins."

My mother's face crumpled.

"When I left, I left one child with your grandmother."

She was crying openly now.

"I swear to you. There was never another baby. Whoever that girl is, she's not your sister."

A cold sensation spread through my chest.

Like something rotten had been buried inside my life for years and had only now started surfacing.

My mother wiped at her tears.

"I worked overseas because I needed money," she said. "I sent everything home."

Her voice trembled.

"Then I got into an accident. I lost my memory."

I stared at her.

She continued.

"I only started remembering things last year. Ever since then, I've been looking for you. Everywhere. I never stopped being your mother, Alina. I never stopped loving you."

I wanted to believe her.

Part of me desperately wanted to.

But my entire life suddenly felt like a lie.

"I need time."

My voice sounded distant.

"I need to think."

She nodded immediately.

As though she'd expected that answer.

Leaning forward, she kissed my forehead.

Softly.

"I'll wait."

She slipped a piece of paper containing her number into my hand.

Then she stood and left.

---

I barely had time to process any of it.

A few minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed outside.

The back gate burst open.

Five men stormed into the yard.

I recognized them immediately.

Viktor's men.

Before I could react, they grabbed me.

I struggled.

Fought.

But my body was too weak.

Someone threw a blanket over my shoulders and dragged me outside.

Humiliation burned hotter than the bruises.

Rain began pouring from the sky.

Within seconds I was drenched.

Cold water soaked through my clothes.

Thunder rolled overhead.

Everything felt loud.

Chaotic.

Cruel.

One of the men crouched beside me.

"Boss says you're sleeping outside tonight."

His voice was emotionless.

"Punishment for what you did to Miss Bianca."

I pounded my fists against the door.

"Please."

My voice cracked.

"I'm sick."

Rainwater ran down my face.

"My medicine is inside. Please let me get it."

Nobody listened.

Someone shoved me backward.

Another man laughed.

The rain kept falling.

My body started shaking uncontrollably.

Then my phone rang.

Viktor.

For a moment, I simply stared at his name.

Then I answered.

"Listen carefully."

His voice was cold.

Emotionless.

"Your transplant was supposed to happen tomorrow."

My throat tightened.

"After what happened today, Bianca's refusing."

He paused.

"She's too traumatized."

The bitterness in his voice cut deep.

"Maybe spend tonight thinking about your actions."

The line disconnected.

Just like that.

I lowered the phone slowly.

Rain mixed with the tears on my face.

Curled up on the cold ground, I hugged the phone against my chest as though it was the only thing keeping me alive.

For several minutes, I simply sat there.

Shivering.

Alone.

Then I remembered the number my mother had left behind.

With numb fingers, I searched for it.

My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone twice before managing to dial.

The call connected.

A sleepy voice answered after a few rings.

"Hello?"

My throat closed.

For a second, I couldn't speak.

Then the word finally came out.

"M-Mom..."

My teeth chattered from the cold.

Rain soaked my hair and clothes.

"P-please..."

My voice broke.

"Come get me."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Tears mixed with rainwater.

"I'll go with you."

The confession hurt more than it should have.

"I don't care where."

My voice cracked completely.

"Just... please get me out of here."

Twenty minutes passed before my mother arrived.

By then, the rain had soaked through every layer of clothing I had. I was shaking so violently that my teeth wouldn't stop clattering, and every breath felt like it scraped through my lungs. I honestly thought the cold might finish what my illness had started.

The moment her car pulled up, she rushed out.

"Alina!"

A thick blanket landed over my shoulders before I could even respond.

She wrapped it around me and practically carried me into the car.

Everything felt distant and blurry. I was only half-aware of what was happening, but I could feel her steady hands holding me upright and hear her voice telling me I was safe.

For the first time in a long while, someone was taking care of me.

Not because they wanted something.

Not because they needed something from me.

Just because they cared.

My mother drove directly into the city.

The hotel she brought me to looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers. Employees greeted her with respectful bows the second she stepped inside.

I barely had the strength to take it all in.

She led me into a luxurious suite, settled me onto a couch, and pressed a mug of hot tea into my hands.

Then she brushed damp strands of hair away from my face.

The gesture was so gentle that it nearly broke me.

"Rest for now," she said softly. "Leave everything else to me."

I looked up at her.

She smiled faintly.

"I'm not the same woman who left years ago, Alina. I've built an empire. These days, I can move people around like chess pieces if I need to. Whatever problems you're facing, let me handle them."

For the first time in days, the knot in my chest loosened.

I wrapped both hands around the warm cup.

"Thank you, Mom."

Her eyes immediately filled with tears.

---

Later that evening, after the city had settled into silence, we sat beside the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline.

Lights glittered across the darkness below.

My mother swirled the wine in her glass while calmly discussing things most people only saw in movies.

Influence.

Connections.

Power.

The ability to make problems disappear.

"If you ever want a clean start somewhere else," she said casually, "I have people who can arrange it."

I stared down at my trembling hands.

Then I asked the question that had been growing inside me for days.

"Can you fake my death?"

She didn't even blink.

"Yes."

The answer came instantly.

"That wouldn't be difficult."

I swallowed hard.

"You can really do that?"

A small smile crossed her face.

"I know exactly who to call."

But before any of that could happen, there was one thing I needed to do.

One final goodbye.

I picked up my phone and dialed Viktor's number.

Once.

No answer.

Twice.

Nothing.

Three times.

Four.

Still nothing.

On the fifth attempt, he finally answered.

His voice sounded irritated before I even spoke.

"Alina. What is it now?"

My throat tightened.

There were so many things I wanted to say.

So many memories.

Five years of love.

Five years of marriage.

Five years of believing we would grow old together.

"Viktor..." I whispered. "Thank you. For these past five years. I finally realized"

He cut me off immediately.

"Oh, now you finally realized?"

His laugh held no warmth.

"Good. Then come to the hospital tomorrow and apologize to Bianca."

I closed my eyes.

He continued.

"Try showing some gratitude for once. She's willing to save your life. The least you can do is treat her decently instead of acting like everyone owes you something."

I opened my mouth to answer.

Then another voice interrupted.

Bianca.

"Who are you talking to?"

Her tone dripped with concern so fake it made my stomach turn.

"It's Alina."

Viktor sounded bored.

"Oh."

A dramatic gasp followed.

"What does she want now? Is she begging again?"

I could practically hear her smile.

"Viktor, I don't want any more conflict. I'm honestly scared of her. After she hit me, I've been traumatized."

I gripped the phone tighter.

Her voice softened even further.

"Maybe after a month, once I've recovered emotionally, I'll agree to the surgery. I understand she's jealous. I just don't want you two fighting because of me."

Then she added quietly,

"I'm sorry."

Viktor immediately answered.

"No, Bianca. You have nothing to apologize for."

The call disconnected.

He didn't even say goodbye.

The line simply went dead.

I lowered the phone slowly.

A second later, a message notification appeared.

My chest tightened before I even opened it.

It was from Bianca.

"See? I won."

"Your husband barely looks at you anymore."

"Why don't you make things easier for everyone and disappear?"

"Trust me, nobody would miss you."

I stared at the screen.

Strangely, no tears came.

Maybe I had already cried enough.

Maybe there was simply nothing left.

I turned toward my mother.

My voice was barely audible.

"Do it."

She looked at me.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded.

"Do it now."

For several moments, she simply watched me.

Then she reached for her phone.

The rest happened quietly.

Calls were made.

Instructions were given.

People moved through the city while the rest of the world slept.

Money changed hands.

Doors opened.

Doors closed.

My phone disappeared.

So did several other things.

I didn't ask questions.

I didn't want details.

The less I knew, the better.

All I remember is hearing distant reports about screeching tires.

A collision.

Flashing lights.

Then silence.

My wedding ring.

My bracelet.

My phone.

All left behind exactly where they needed to be.

Evidence for strangers to find.

Proof for the world to believe.

My mother stood beside me during every step of it, calm and composed as she watched the scene unfold from a distance.

---

The following morning, every news channel seemed to be talking about the same thing.

A fatal traffic accident.

A woman reportedly killed while traveling to a hospital.

No official identification had been released yet.

But footage of the recovered phone and jewelry circulated everywhere.

For most people, that was proof enough.

Inside the hotel suite, the television continued broadcasting the story.

My mother picked up the remote and switched it off.

"It's finished."

Her voice was steady.

"It's done, sweetheart."

I nodded.

I wasn't sure what I felt.

Relief.

Sadness.

Freedom.

Grief.

Everything seemed tangled together.

Part of me mourned the life I was leaving behind.

Another part felt lighter than I had in months.

Within hours, my mother had arranged everything.

New identities.

New documents.

New passports.

A private jet.

People moved quickly around us, carrying luggage under names that didn't belong to either of us.

Money opened every door we needed.

By dawn, we were walking through a private terminal so quiet it felt abandoned.

My mother's hand rested against my back.

Guiding me forward.

Protecting me.

I stopped for one final look at the city skyline.

The place where I'd fallen in love.

The place where I'd nearly died.

The place where I'd been betrayed.

A sharp ache settled in my chest.

Then I turned away.

And boarded the plane.

"Cabin secured. Preparing for departure."

The pilot's voice echoed through the aircraft.

My mother leaned closer.

"Are you alright?"

I looked out the window at the fading darkness.

For a long moment, I said nothing.

Then I nodded.

"Yes."

My voice was calm.

Because for the first time in months, I wasn't thinking about survival.

I was thinking about revenge.

"When I come back," I said quietly, "Viktor and that woman pretending to be my sister will pay for everything."

My gaze never left the horizon.

"For every scar."

I touched the fading bruise on my cheek.

"For every drop of blood."

I closed my eyes.

"This debt belongs to me."

And one day, I intended to collect it.

---

Viktor's POV

I lay propped up against the hospital bed, irritation simmering beneath my skin.

The bandages around my chest felt too tight.

The painkillers barely dulled the ache from the accident.

I was exhausted.

Frustrated.

And rapidly running out of patience.

I snatched my phone from the bedside table and called my men.

The second someone answered, I didn't bother with greetings.

"Bring Alina here."

My voice left no room for argument.

"I don't care how you do it."

I clenched my jaw.

"If she's hiding in the villa, drag her out."

The memory of Bianca crying flashed through my mind.

"I want her standing in front of me."

My expression hardened.

"And I want her apologizing to Bianca on her knees."

Silence greeted my order.

Several seconds passed.

Then someone on the other end cleared his throat nervously.

"B-Boss..."

His voice wavered.

A bad feeling settled in my stomach.

"What?"

The man hesitated.

Then finally said,

"She's not at the villa."

The room suddenly felt very quiet.