She quickly changed the subject, her hands trembling as she picked up an apple to peel. The shaking was uncontrollable and her body betrayed her in ways she couldn’t hide.
It was the somatic symptom of depression, an unwelcome flare-up Dorothy hadn’t anticipated. Her fingers worked frantically, but the apple slipped from her grasp, landing with a thud on the floor. A sharp sting spread across her hand as a cut appeared.
"What’s wrong?"
Ivan rushed to grab tissues, trying to tend to the wound, but his gaze fell on the deep scars crisscrossing her wrist.
"What is this? Sis, have you been hurting yourself?"
Dorothy jerked her hand away, her voice trembling. "It’s nothing! I just cut myself by accident."
But the truth was harder to hide. Since the depression had taken hold, her body had become an unwilling accomplice, shaking uncontrollably, making simple tasks like holding a spoon or fork a battle.
There were moments, dark and suffocating when she longed to escape it all. And the scars on her wrist? They were all from times she had sought solace in the sharp bite of a blade, a release after Kyrie’s cruel words and actions.
Ivan froze, his face draining of color. Then, without warning, he broke down, tears streaming down his face. "Sis! I can’t keep doing this! Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, leave Kyrie!"
As Ivan cried, the last trace of color drained from his face, his breaths quick and shallow.
Dorothy froze in horror. "Ivan, no! I’m fine! Don’t move!"
Ivan’s grip tightened around her hand, his voice hoarse with urgency. "Sis, you… leave him!"
The terror in his eyes was unmistakable. Dorothy’s heart skipped a beat as she realized his heart condition had worsened. Panic seized her chest and she screamed, "Nurse!"
The nurse rushed in, her face ashen. "The patient’s condition is critical. We need emergency treatment!"
Before Dorothy could speak, Ivan was immediately wheeled into the emergency room.
She hurried to follow, but at that very moment, her phone rang. It was Kyrie calling.
"Portia wants blueberry muffins from Fort Wayne. Go get them."
Dorothy gripped the phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her voice cracked with desperation. "My brother’s heart just flared up. I can’t leave right now. Can you…"
The cold, unfeeling voice on the other end cut her off. "Even if he dies, you must get those blueberry muffins for Portia."
Before Dorothy could respond, the phone went dead, the line gone as though nothing had ever happened.
She cast a lingering glance at the emergency room, then down at her phone, the weight of the choice settling heavily in her chest. After a long breath, she gritted her teeth and resolved to stay at the hospital.
Hours later, Ivan was finally wheeled out of the emergency room. It had been a narrow escape.
The doctor’s voice was somber but hopeful. "He’s stable for now, but his condition remains serious. Please, try to keep the stress to a minimum."
Dorothy nodded quickly. "Thank you, Doctor."
In the quiet of the ward, she sat by Ivan’s side, her eyes tracing every detail of his pale face. The dam she’d been holding back for so long finally broke and silent tears spilled down her cheeks as she whispered, "Ivan, you haven’t given up on me, so I won’t give up on you."
Outside the window, the first snow of the season began to fall, each flake drifting softly to the ground. Dorothy’s gaze followed them and her mind wandered back to a time long ago.
When she was young, her parents’ arguments echoed through their home, growing louder and more frequent. The threat of divorce hung heavy in the air and both of them wanted to take Ivan with them as if he could somehow heal all the broken pieces.
When Dorothy had knelt on the cold floor, feeling like nothing more than a discarded piece of trash, Kyrie had stormed in. He’d grabbed her hand with a grip that almost felt desperate, his voice cutting through the silence like a whip. "If you don’t want her, I do!"
At fourteen, Dorothy and Ivan had been forced to face the world alone after their parents died in a plane crash, their lives forever altered.
Relatives who had once shown kindness turned into ruthless vultures, eager to divide them up as though they were mere objects. Just when it seemed they would be torn apart, Kyrie had stepped in.
Back then, at only sixteen, Kyrie had been young, but his courage had been unmatched. He had stood tall against the world, facing down the elders with a fierce resolve. "Anyone who dares to touch them will have to answer to my family."
For four years, Kyrie had kept them safe, standing by their side through thick and thin.
The three of them had been inseparable, their bond stronger than anything. But now, because of Portia, that bond had shattered beyond repair.
Dorothy couldn’t fathom it; could loving someone really change Kyrie so completely? Could it really turn him into this cold, heartless stranger?
