My aunt hadn’t even tried to hide her satisfaction.
And I—the coward that I was—chose Anna’s life over my own happiness. Over the man who had sat with me night after night while his mother slipped away. The man who held me on the hardest nights, whispering words I still remember. Words I still feel.
Until I walked away. Left him believing I’d simply moved on without a word.
I suck in a shaking breath as I reach the familiar door.
Anna Remington—Room 312.
My fingers tremble as I turn the handle and slip inside.
The quiet hits me first. Soft, thick, almost sacred. Machines hum at steady intervals, the only sign that life is still tethered to my sister’s small, still body.
She lies where she always does, her once vibrant caramel skin pale against the white sheets, her curls detangled neatly by one of the nurses. A tiny stuffed bear—one I brought months ago—rests in the crook of her arm.
My breath catches.
“Hey, Anna,” I whisper, my voice cracking on her name.
I move to her bedside and set the bag on the small table. The sight of her like this never gets easier, but today something inside me shatters completely.
“I know it’s been a few days,” I say softly, brushing a finger against her cool hand. “I’m sorry. Things have been… chaotic.”
Chaotic is an understatement.
Life-altering. Terrifying. Beautiful in a way it shouldn’t be.
I pull a chair close and sink into it. The moment I take Anna’s hand, my chest loosens, like I’ve been holding my breath for days.
“I did something stupid,” I admit quietly. “Or maybe it’s smart. I don’t know anymore.”
A shaky laugh escapes me, humorless and thin.
“I defied aunt Priscilla. Well, I plan to at least. Only she doesn’t know yet.” I stroke my thumb against her knuckles, focussing on the gentle circles. “I asked Caden for help,” I say. “Yeah, that Caden,” I add.
The confession sticks in my throat.
“And he agreed. To everything.”
I trace another circle on Anna’s knuckles, avoiding her face because if I look at her too long, I’ll fall apart.
“We’re… engaged,” I whisper.
Even saying it aloud feels surreal, like I’m speaking someone else’s life into existence. Someone braver. Someone less fragile.
“But it’s fake,” I rush to add. “Just a deal. Just long enough to get both of us what we need. I promised him a baby in return and?—”
My voice cracks.
“That part terrifies me, Anna. It terrifies me so much I can barely breathe some nights.”
I lean forward, my forehead hovering near her hand.
“But what scares me more is how being around him again feels like… like drowning in feelings I spent years trying to kill.”
A tear slips down my cheek.
“I’m not over him. God, I’m not over him at all.”
