Fredrinn was on the couch when I walked in.
My twin was curled up against him, way too close, feeding him fruit like she owned him. She was smiling, calm, satisfied. Like she’d already won and was just waiting for the prize to stop breathing.
“Lesley!” Fredrinn jumped up fast, like he’d been rehearsing this. His face lit up, guilty and hopeful at the same time. He shoved a small gift box toward me. “I got you something. If you take this, it means you agree. You’ll let me stay with her for a while so she can help you. Just say yes. Please.”
I stared at the box. Didn’t move. Didn’t reach for it.
“I don’t need the gift,” I said. My lips were shaking but I kept my voice flat. “I’ll agree even without it.”
He froze. “You really mean that?”
“Yes,” I said. Each word hurt coming out.
My twin was up in a second. She grabbed my arm like we were sisters again, like she hadn’t been slowly killing me. Her smile was bright and fake.
“Good,” she said sweetly. “Then let’s all be nice, okay? No jealousy. Fredrinn’s just helping me live my dream. He promised me one month. After that, you’ll be fine.”
I pulled my arm out of her grip. Slowly.
“I won’t be jealous.”
Fredrinn finally relaxed. He rushed to the kitchen, came back with a bowl of soup like this was some happy family scene. He smiled at me, proud of himself.
“I made this for you. It’s good for your blood. Eat a little.”
It smelled warm. Familiar. I wanted to trust him. I took one sip.
My throat burned instantly.
“No,” I gasped, grabbing my chest. My skin went cold. “Shrimp. You put shrimp in this. Fredrinn, I’m allergic! I told you. You know this.”
He went pale. “I thought… I thought it was peanuts. I mixed it up.”
My twin tilted her head, pretending to be helpful. “No, you’re confused. I’m allergic to peanuts. You remembered that, right? I told you last week.”
Everything went blurry.
Pain tore through my chest. Sharp. Deep. Like something was ripping me open from the inside. He remembered her allergy. Not mine.
The last thing I heard was him yelling my name like it mattered now.
When I woke up, I was back in a hospital bed. Again.
Fredrinn was sitting beside me. His eyes were red. He was holding my hand too tight, like he was scared I’d disappear.
“I’m sorry,” he said fast. “It was a mistake. Please believe me. I canceled everything. For the next few days, it’s just you. I swear. I won’t let this happen again. Please forgive me.”
I turned my face away.
“You don’t need to say sorry,” I said quietly. “You already belong to her. Just remember what she likes now. Take care of her. And Fredrinn… stay out of my life. I mean it.”
He shook his head, panicking. “What are you talking about? This thing with her isn’t real. It’s just a deal. One month. I’m pretending so she’ll save you. Don’t twist it. You’re my wife. You’re the one I love.”
He reached for my face.
I pulled the blanket up instead.
“I’m tired,” I whispered. “I need to sleep.”
His hand stayed in the air for a second. Then he pulled back and stood up.
“Fine,” he said. “Rest.”
The door closed behind him. The sound felt heavier than a gunshot.
I opened my eyes after he left. Tears slid into my pillow, silent, useless. I knew the truth. I didn’t have much time left. Aplastic anemia was eating me alive, slow and patient.
I forced myself out of bed later. Every step hurt. I went to the closet and dragged out an old dusty box hidden in the back.
Inside was my whole life with him.
Movie tickets from our first date. A cheap bracelet he bought me at a night market when he still smiled like a normal man. Polaroids from trips before blood, guns, and deals replaced love.
In every photo, I was smiling.
And his arms were always around me.
My chest felt tight. I spent the whole night going through that box, touching every stupid little thing like it was the last time I’d ever get to. By dawn, I dragged the box outside and lit a small brazier. One by one, I threw the memories in the fire.
The flames were climbing when a voice cut through the air.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Before I could even move, my twin came storming at me and shoved me hard. The brazier tipped, hot coals flying everywhere. A few landed on my arm. I gasped, pain ripping through me.
“Miya—” I stumbled back, clutching my arm.
She didn’t even slow down. She lunged at me, eyes burning with that fake hurt she always wore. “If you don’t want me here, just say it! Why are you burning my stuff?”
Her voice was all venom wrapped in sugar, but I saw it. The satisfaction.
The yelling drew Fredrinn out. He ran up and grabbed her like she was the one in danger, shoving me back without even touching her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
She clung to his chest, trembling, tears already streaked down her cheeks. “Fredrinn, she hates me so much she started burning my stuff! Look at it! She doesn’t want me here!”
His eyes hit me for the first time in weeks, and I froze. But it wasn’t love I saw. It was disappointment.
“Lesley… how could you? After everything she’s done for you, after she agreed to help with your treatment… this is how you treat her?”
I felt my throat tighten. Couldn’t breathe. I bent down and picked a charred scrap from the ashes, a corner of a photo. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
“Look at this,” I said, voice breaking. “These aren’t her things. They’re mine. Our memories.”
The photo was from last winter. Fredrinn had wrapped his scarf around me, my cheeks red, my eyes bright.
For a second, he froze. “Why… why would you burn these?”
“Because they’re rotten,” I said, tears blurring my eyes. I tossed it back into the fire. “I don’t want them anymore.”
“No, Lesley! These are ours. You said we’d look at them when we were old. Why throw them away?”
I gave a tiny, broken smile. “Don’t you get it? Fredrinn… I’m dy—”
“Fredrinn… my hand. I think I burned it when the brazier fell.” My twin’s voice cut in, sharp and fake again.
Just like that, he was gone. Dropped my hand like it meant nothing. His eyes were all over her now, fussing, protecting, caring. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll put ointment on it.”
With his arm wrapped around her, he walked her in. Didn’t even glance back.
