Chapter one
Amy
4th March 2018
She’s gone. It was inevitable. Even as I see her with my own eyes, I can barely accept it. My greatest supporter. My best friend has been taken from me—too soon.
My sister lies in front of me, perfectly still. Her face looks peaceful, almost serene. It’s as if she has drifted off into a long sleep. The pain and suffering have seeped away. Finally.
Forty-four is no age to die. Even though we all knew it was inevitable, the end was near, none of us were prepared for it to happen. Bex had been the focus of us all in recent years. All our plans and arrangements centered around how she was feeling that day. If she was unwell, we would all stay with her, regardless of what was on our agenda.
Four years ago, the doctors told her it was unlikely she would see her forty-second birthday. The disease was spreading at aphenomenal rate. Her prognosis was poor, but she beat the odds and survived far beyond what was expected of her.
Sadly, miracles don’t last forever.
She’d told me she would be gone soon. She made me promise to live my life to the fullest, take risks, and enjoy the crazy moments. “You live for both of us, Amz,” she told me. “My life is being cut short. You make damn sure yours isn’t too. Live, Amy, please. Stop worrying about being perfect and just be you.” Tears rolled down my face with her words. “Amy, time is infinite, but life is finite.”
I nodded, but a quieter vow formed underneath. One that honored my sister—I promised myself I’d live as I wanted, no matter who disagreed. Just as she did in the end.
We held each other then and sobbed together. Two girls, sisters, who had held each other time and again over the years. Over boys. Over men. But this time it was over what both of us knew we were going to lose.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to do what she asks without her by my side. She’s my twin. There have always been two of us. Now, I don’t have the other half of me. The person who knew when I needed her.
I glance over to Ben, sitting on the other side of her bed, gently holding her hand. His thumb traces the blue rope of a vein, searching for a warmth that’s no longer there.
In the final days of her illness, Bex couldn’t bear to be touched. I watched her husband restrain himself from holding her. He used to stop an inch from her shoulder and pretend he was reaching for the water.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been sitting here. The doctor pronounced her dead at 11:31, and we haven’t moved or spoken since she passed away. The clock ticks. The radiator sighs. Our grief is loud enough.
“Have you told Liam?” I ask eventually.
Bloodshot tired eyes focus on me, and he shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I need to call home, but what do I say, Amz? How do I tell my son his mum is gone?” I stand and move to sit beside him, putting my hand on his shoulder. His throat works, his next breath rasping, almost a sob.
“Ben, all you can do is tell him the truth. She said goodbye to him yesterday,” I remind him. “Bex knew today was her last day. She had all her ducks in a row.”
“Typical Bex,” he mumbles. “For someone who used to be so bloody disorganized, impending death made her up her game.” We both chuckle at the observation. It’s true. Death made Bex get her act together.
Then the dam breaks, and his tears come. After placing her hand gently onto the bed, his head drops to his hands, his elbows on his knees. “So much wasted time. We missed so much of each other,” he whispers.
I still hear her cries the first time he left. The day he shattered my sister to pieces, thinking he was making the moral choice.
The years of stiff hellos at birthdays and softer goodbyes that followed. The stolen glances when they thought no one was looking. And yet, somehow, they found their way back to each other… just in time.
“Should I call a nurse?” I ask. “Are you ready to leave?” He nods but doesn’t speak.
“Do you know what hurts most?” he says. My eyebrows draw together in question. “When I walk away from her this time, it’s forever. There’s no going back or fixing this. No begging for forgiveness. No second chances. It’s over.”
My throat tightens. Words tangle then scrape free.
“Ben, you need to prioritize Liam. You have an eleven-year-old boy at home who just lost his mum. Never mind the other three broken-hearted kids. However bad you’re hurting, they needto be your focus. We’ll all miss her, but life doesn’t stop. She wouldn’t want you to live in grief. Grieve, but don’t stop living.”
Standing, I hold out my hand. He takes it, and we walk from the room, away from my sister, now forever sleeping.
Chapter two
Amy
“Do you want a cup of tea or something stronger?” my husband, Terry, calls from the kitchen.
