If I was going to die, I refused to do it alone, under the harsh glare of white lights, waiting for him to remember I existed.
When I returned home, Gio lounged on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His eyes flicked to me briefly, flat and unreadable, then he rose and strode toward his study as if I weren’t even in the room.
“Gio,” I called softly, leaning against the wall for support. My voice cracked. “It’s my birthday in two days.”
He paused, tilting his head. “So?”
“I… I just want to spend it with you. One last time.”
His brow twitched. “Last time? What, are you dying or something?”
I forced a weak smile. “Maybe. Can I?”
He snorted and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll give you a surprise you’ll never forget.” His tone was thick with sarcasm. I knew that look. He was plotting something cruel.
Two days later, I found myself at the hotel he’d texted me about. The moment I stepped through the door, my legs nearly gave out.
The entire hall was stark white and frigid, draped in wreaths of chrysanthemums. A coffin sat at the center. My photo hung on the wall, framed with black ribbon. Guests in black suits turned to look at me, silent. Not a single word.
“Do you like it?” Gio’s voice slithered from the corner. He stepped forward, smirking. “A funeral for your birthday. Thought it would suit you.”
I stared at the photograph, lips trembling, then laughed—a broken, hollow sound. “Y-yeah. I love it.”
For a moment, he froze. “If you love it that much, stay still,” he said, his voice icy, waving his hand.
His friends approached, incense sticks in hand, grinning like predators.
“The sooner you go, the better.”
“Don’t haunt Evander in your next life, okay?”
“Have a safe trip.”
Their laughter echoed in the hall. I just stood there, smiling through it, feeling nothing—or maybe everything. Pain had become a companion.
When it ended, I tried to leave, but Gio’s hand clamped onto my arm.
“What’s your game?” he hissed.
“My game?” I repeated softly.
“Why aren’t you fighting back? You always scream, break things, cry. Why act pathetic now?”
I met his eyes steadily. “It’s not humiliation anymore. I actually… like what you did.”
This time, it felt real. A rehearsal for what was coming.
He stared at me, confusion flickering, then scoffed. “You’re getting creative. But it won’t work, Liora. I’ll never forgive you.”
I said nothing, simply held his gaze until he looked away and stormed off.
---
Back at home, the pain hit me like a physical blow, leaving me breathless. I stumbled into the bathroom, barely reaching the sink before blood began spilling from my mouth, splattering across the tiles like scarlet paint.
I rinsed my mouth, took my pills with trembling hands, and sank into the bathtub. The hot water soothed me for a few fleeting moments.
Later, as I tried to comb my hair, a clump came away in my hand. Staring at my reflection, hollow cheeks and pale lips stared back. Bitterly, I smiled. Was this really me? Could I last another two weeks?
The next morning, I went to a small downtown photo studio. It smelled of aged wood and old film.
The old man behind the counter blinked, startled. “You want what?”
“A memorial photo,” I said simply. “Something nice. Something that shows me when I was still alive.”
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll make it beautiful.”
I wore a red dress I hadn’t touched in years, painted my lips, and smiled at the camera as I used to: proud, bright, pretending the world hadn’t broken me.
When it was done, he asked, “Take it home after it’s developed?”
I shook my head. “No. Just fix it a little and send it to this address.”
I wrote down my home address. I wanted my photo beside my sister’s… so even in death, I’d still belong somewhere.
---
The ancestral hall smelled of dust and fading incense. I stood before Sabrina and Evander’s portraits, fingers resting on the black frames as if they were the only thing tethering me to them. Sabrina’s smile was soft, the kind that made the world slow down. Evander’s eyes held the calm I had once hidden in as a child.
“I’ll be with you soon,” I whispered. Pressing my forehead against the glass, I let a single tear fall onto the altar. “This stupid feud… it’s almost over.”
“You think you can come in here whenever you want?” Gio’s voice cut through the quiet like a slap. He was behind me before I could turn. I jumped, my elbow smashing against the frame. Glass shattered with a sharp crack that echoed endlessly.
He didn’t look surprised. He looked furious. His grip on my wrist bruised immediately. “You already killed them! Now you destroy their things too?”
“I-I didn’t mean to,” I stammered, pulling back. “You scared me. If you hadn’t snuck up—”
“Save it.” He shoved me forward. “You have no right to touch any of it.”
“I came to see them. Is that a crime?”
He laughed, sharp and bitter. “See them? You don’t deserve to look at them.”
Before I could regain my footing, two guards stepped up. I slammed into the doorframe with my knee, almost collapsing. “Let me go! Gio, are you insane?”
“You’re the crazy one,” he said, and before I could brace myself, one of the guards forced me down to the center of the hall.
“Since you want to stay, stay here. And atone.”
“I’ll atone in my own way. This isn’t how—”
He didn’t let me finish. His boot slammed down on my knee so fast and hard that the breath was knocked from me.
