The Girl He Never Saw

"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding." The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot. Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe. Chapter 1 Sangaria City, Arlencia. "Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding." The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot. Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe. Last time, she hadn't listened. She'd begged Vincent, tried to explain he'd fallen for her, not Mira. Pleaded with her parents to stop the act, to make Mira quit stealing her place. All it did was make Vincent hate her more. Even when she was bleeding out after the crash, he told the nurse on the phone, cold as ice, "What trick is she pulling now? Tell her to stop ruining my wedding with Mira." She died on the operating table, eyes locked on the screen—Vincent sliding a ring onto Mira's finger, the whole world cheering them on. But now? With a second shot at life? She wasn't crawling back. "Fine. I'll go." She took the ticket, voice flat and calm—too calm. Donald and Diana froze. "You're really leaving?" Diana asked. "You're not planning something to ruin Mira, are you?!" 'Ruin?' What a joke. Vincent had been hers. They were the ones who handed him to Mira. Over twenty years ago, when Mira was diagnosed with leukemia, Donald and Diana didn't blink—they had another kid. That kid was her. Her cord blood saved Mira's life. From that moment on, she lived in Mira's shadow. Mira was the sick one, the fragile one, so all the love went to her. Sasha got used to giving things up—bedrooms, friends, competition spots. But there was one thing she wouldn't let go of. The boy she'd fallen for the second she saw him—Vincent Scythe, heir to the Scythe family. He used to be untouchable, a golden boy in the clouds. Then a car crash after his birthday banquet left him blind and stashed away in some far-off estate. Sasha never told anyone. She swiped the keys and climbed the wall every day after school just to be with him. "I'll come every day." In the dark, her voice—soft and clear—became the only thing holding Vincent together. She never told him her real name. Just traced the letters in his palm: "Call me Twinkie." He brushed her hair like it was glass, played piano for her, held her frozen hands against his chest when storms rolled in. The night before his surgery, he kissed her fingertips. "When my eyes are healed," he whispered, "you'll be the first person I see. When that happens... let's be together, okay?" The surgery lasted twelve hours. But when Vincent opened his eyes, he saw Mira. Donald and Diana had found out Mira liked him too. So they drugged Sasha's water, knocked her out for a full day. Then they lied. Told Vincent Mira had been the one by his side all those years. And he believed it. He fell for Mira, dated her, got engaged. For three years, Sasha tried to tell him the truth—that she was the one he loved. He never believed her. Not until she died. Staring at the two people who gave birth to her, Sasha felt nothing but dry amusement. "You pushed me out over and over. Now that I'm saying yes, you don't buy it? Doesn't that sound a little messed up to you?" "That's not what we meant," Diana said quickly. "If you're willing to go, that's for the best. You'll leave for Eurphie in two weeks. Use the time to pack and get your affairs in order." Worried she'd change her mind, Donald and Diana tacked on a few more reminders, then left looking satisfied. She turned and went back to her room. The second the door shut, her phone buzzed. A message from Vincent: [Eight tonight. Grand Regency Hotel, 1808.] Sasha stared at it, fingers curling just a little. Last time, this message had made her heart race—she'd thought he was finally ready to listen. Instead, he'd dragged her there to watch him screw Mira—like it was some sick, live show just to gut her. She'd cried. He'd looked her dead in the eye and said, "See it clearly? The only person I love is your sister." Thinking about it now? It was pathetic. Almost funny. She exhaled slow, then typed back: [Okay.] At eight sharp, she walked into the Grand Regency Hotel. The door to 1808 was wide open. Vincent had his arms around Mira, their bare bodies tangled together. Used condoms littered the floor, and the air was thick with lust. Mira jolted when she saw Sasha standing there. Vincent didn't even flinch. He just kissed down Mira's collarbone, voice low and smooth. "Don't be scared. I called her here on purpose. She needs to see it. Needs to understand I love you. That from now on, I'm only going to be her future brother-in-law." Even after living through it once, watching it again still felt like getting gutted—bloody and raw. But she had to get used to it. Because Vincent wasn't hers. And he never would be. After who knows how long, Sasha finally unclenched her fist. Her palm was carved with deep nail marks. Vincent was walking toward her now, fully dressed. "Did you see it clearly?" he said. "The only person I love is your sister. Don't forget your place. I'm your future brother-in-law. Stop doing those shameless things." Her face didn't move. "Yeah. I saw. I get it." He hesitated—like he didn't expect her to be this calm. Then he picked up a wedding invite from the nightstand and handed it to her. "Mira and I are getting married next month. I hope you'll come." Sasha took it. "I'll be there. Right on time. And I'll wish you both a long, happy life." Vincent frowned, eyes fixed on her. For some reason, Sasha was way too obedient today. He didn't question it. He just laced his fingers with Mira's and headed out of the Grand Regency. Sasha trailed after them, her steps dragging. Her head was down, thoughts drifting, when a sharp scream ripped through the air. A huge overhead sign came crashing down. Vincent reacted on instinct, yanking Mira back just in time. Sasha was the only one still standing there. The sign slammed into her. Blood splashed as she hit the floor. Pain tore through her in brutal waves, shredding her nerves until she shook in a spreading pool of red. Tears blurred her vision. Through it, she saw him holding Mira, shielding her. Then she shut her eyes. The boy who'd once belonged only to her was gone for good. And she could finally let him go. Chapter 2 When Sasha opened her eyes, she was in a hospital bed. A nurse was swapping out her bandages. The second she noticed Sasha was awake, she let out a shaky breath. "You've been out for two days. Finally woke up. How're you feeling? "Your sister passed out from the shock when she brought you in. Your parents and your sister's fiance are in the next room taking care of her. Want me to call them?" Sasha blinked slowly. Then shook her head. "No. They don't wanna see me, and I don't wanna see them." The nurse hesitated, eyes soft with pity, then slipped out of the room. "Both girls are their daughters, but the younger one almost bled out and landed in the ICU. They haven't even stopped by. Been fussing over the older one like she's the only one who matters." "I heard the older sister's engaged to the president of Scythe Corp. No wonder the parents ditched the younger one—she's not marrying into a fortune. But the fiance? He hasn't left his fiancee one's side—feeding her meds, soup, even brought in a retired therapist. Her room's practically buried in gifts." The nurses' voices weren't loud, but every word landed sharp in Sasha's ears. Her face didn't flicker. She'd seen this all before. That afternoon, the doctor called her in for a follow-up. No one came with her. So she dragged her weak body out of bed and walked there alone. As she passed the next room, she caught a glimpse—her parents and Vincent gathered around the bed, fussing over Mira. Donald gently tucked the blanket around her while Diana sat peeling grapes, popping them one by one into her mouth. A soft, sugary smile bloomed on the older sister's face. Her voice was sweet and careful. "Dad, Mom, you've been taking care of me this whole time and haven't even checked on Sasha. "I'm full now—why don't you bring her the rest of the fish soup? She's really hurt. She should have something nourishing." Donald shut that down instantly. "Don't worry about her. That girl could survive anywhere. Your mother spent all night on that soup. Giving it to her would be a waste." Diana nodded like that made perfect sense. Vincent brushed the older sister's bangs back, eyes soft with concern. "The doctor said you fainted from worrying too much. "Sasha's always been cold—never cared about being your sister. She even had the nerve to go after your fiancé. She's not worth it." Sasha let out a low, bitter laugh. No heat—just hollow. She'd been allergic to seafood forever. Couldn't touch anything from the ocean. But Mira? Obsessed with shrimp, crab, fish—so that's what was always on the table. Sasha survived on toast and boiled veggies, still got slammed for being "too picky." In public, Mira played the sweet, worried sister. Behind closed doors? She mocked, shoved, slapped. Then came the waterworks. Mira would cry, twist everything, whine about how she was the victim. Donald and Diana didn't blink. They made Sasha kneel in the rain all night. After that, Sasha stopped fighting. Gave Mira whatever she wanted and kept her head down. In her last life, the only thing Sasha fought for was Vincent. And look how that turned out. This time? She was done. No more fights. No more proving anything. No more love. Just her, living for herself. Sasha grabbed her meds solo, prescription in hand, and headed out. The pharmacy sat behind the hospital, just past a garden and fountain. Right as she hit the path—blockade. Mira. "Wow, already walking? Guess you weren't that messed up," Mira sneered. "Anyway, Mom and Dad are backing me. So even if you whine to Vincent about being THE ONE who stuck by him, it won't matter. Spare yourself the drama." Sasha didn't flinch. "Relax. I'm over Vincent. You can have it all." Mira's grin stretched wider, drunk on the power. "Have? Babe, I don't need you to give me anything. I take what I want. You? You live off my leftovers. You'll never win—not in this life." Chapter 3 Sasha wasn't about to play Mira's game. She turned to leave. Mira scowled, ready to snap again—then froze. Someone familiar was walking down the corridor. In a blink, she yanked Sasha's wrist and dragged her into the fountain. Neither of them could swim. They splashed, kicked, screamed for help. Sasha's stitches ripped open. Blood spread fast. Freezing water shot up her nose—she choked, coughing hard. Her body gave out. Everything burned, then went numb. She sank. Right before it all went black, she saw Vincent sprinting toward the fountain—then diving in. He swam right past her—didn't even look her way—and dragged Mira to the edge. Mira, eyes red and watery, collapsed into his arms. She peeked back at Sasha, still sinking, then threw on a worried face. "She... She pushed me in by accident," she said sweetly. "Vincent, she's my only sister. Can you get her too?" Vincent's face iced over. He glanced at Sasha, flailing and half-submerged. "Mira, don't defend her. She clearly tried to drown you, then jumped in for show. If she wants to play the victim, let her soak in it." Every word cut deep. Her face burned purple, lungs empty. A sharp ringing swallowed everything. The world smeared and tilted. Through the blur, she saw Vincent carrying Mira away. Then darkness. A blast of cold air snapped Sasha awake. She shook hard as she opened her eyes. Donald and Diana loomed over her, faces tight with fury. "Are you insane?" Diana snapped. "How dare you shove Mira into the water? Were you trying to kill her and steal Vincent? As long as we're alive, that'll never happen." Donald's voice hit just as hard. "You'll never compare to your sister. You're not worthy of Vincent. Face it and quit the fantasy." Their yelling cut colder than the water. Sasha's chest tightened, eyes filling with something heavier than tears—pure, bone-deep despair. But the pain? It finally cracked wide open. "Not worthy? SHE'S worthy?" Her voice shook. "If you hadn't lied and faked everything, Vincent wouldn't have looked at her twice. You stole what was mine and handed it to her. Doesn't that shame you at all?" Diana flushed. Donald's hand flew. The slap snapped her head sideways. "You ungrateful brat!" he barked. "We gave you life. Everything you have came from us. If we wanna take it and hand it to Mira, we will. You think you get a say? You dare speak the truth again—just try it and see what happens—" The door slammed open. Vincent stepped in, frowning. "The truth? What truth?" Donald and Diana jolted, scrambling to cover. "W-We were just disciplining her," Donald stammered. "Trying to get her to admit she pushed Mira." "She won't confess no matter what," Diana added quickly. "We're furious—don't even know how to punish her." They shot each other a quick look, smoothly dodging the topic. Vincent didn't think much of it. His stare landed on Sasha—cold, sharp. "Still won't own up? Lock her in the morgue. Let her out when she figures out what she did wrong." Donald and Diana nodded like it was genius, then waved the guards in without hesitation. Sasha clutched her burning cheek, eyes blank, checked out. Fighting back would only make it worse. So she didn't. Let them drag her off. The morgue was a freezer. Bone-deep cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking like crazy. Her mind drifted, foggy and frayed. She saw flashes of the old Scythe estate—those stormy nights when she and Vincent huddled together under one coat. He'd pull her close, hold her hand tight, whisper over and over, "I'm here. You're safe." Those memories stabbed sharper than the cold. Minutes blurred. Her stomach screamed, her body numb. She could barely think. Then the door creaked open. Vincent stepped in, expression stone-cold, eyes cutting. "You've been in here a full day and night. Ready to admit what you did?" Sasha stayed curled up, voice raw and rasping. "I admit it. I was wrong." He looked satisfied. She wobbled to her feet and walked out, whispering to herself. 'Wrong for believing you'd be with me. Wrong for ever falling for you.' Chapter 4 After getting discharged, Sasha went home and purged every trace of Vincent. Old diaries, crumpled love notes, hidden photos, unopened gifts, the little surprises... She was supposed to tell him everything once they made it. But that was never happening. Not now. Not ever. None of it meant anything anymore. She dumped everything. Turned around—and slammed right into Vincent. He'd just dropped Mira off. His eyes flicked to the trash. Then back to her. Still cold. Still blank. Mira noticed too. She latched onto his arm, all fake-sweet. "Vincent, looks like Sasha finally got the message. She won't bug you anymore. She's my little sister, y'know. Don't be so harsh." Vincent didn't even blink. "I've never been nice to people I don't like. No point pretending." Sasha just stood there, quiet. One breath. Swallowed it all down. Then turned and walked back to her room. *** The next day was Mira's birthday bash. The hall buzzed—packed with guests, all gossip and glam. "Vincent went all out, huh? Flew in those flowers from Eurphie this morning. Three days of fireworks, can you believe it? And that necklace Mira's wearing? He snagged it at Sotheby's—cost a fortune." "He's totally obsessed with her. Mira hit the jackpot. The Clarke family's about to blow up... though it sucks they've still got Sasha hanging around, obsessing over Vincent. So pathetic." "Right? Same blood, but Sasha's just... less. Forget looks and personality—she's got zero shame. Still chasing her sister's fiance? If my kid pulled that, I'd have kicked her out ages ago. Donald and Diana are way too soft." Sasha heard every word. Felt none of it. Just silence inside. Cold, hollow silence. She sat off to the side, quiet, invisible—trying not to exist. A few feet away, Donald and Diana stood with Vincent, all smiles around Mira like she was their sun. They fussed over her dress, blocked her drinks, lit her candles. Sang like it was the happiest day ever. Sasha watched. And remembered. Her own birthdays? Mira always dragged their parents off somewhere, leaving Sasha to light her own candles in an empty house. Back when she was with Vincent, he used to be there. Cake, wishes, little gifts—just enough to make her think maybe she wasn't alone anymore. But even that scrap of warmth was gone now. And she wasn't chasing it anymore. In the middle of all the noise and glitter, Mira shut her eyes and made her wish. Guests lined up with gifts—designer bags, diamonds, all the luxury. She opened each one slow, soaking up the spotlight, smile locked in place. Then came the final two. Donald stepped up first. "After thinking it over, Diana and I have decided—Mira will be the successor to our company. She's inheriting everything." The room lit up. Vincent followed. "My gift to Mira is fifty percent of Scythe Corp... and my family's heirloom ring. My grandma always said any couple who wears these rings will grow old together." He turned to Mira. "You're the only one I want to marry. Thank you for saying yes." With everyone watching, he slipped the ring on her finger, pulled her close, and kissed her like the rest of the world didn't exist. The whole hall exploded—cheers, applause, nonstop congratulations. From the sidelines, Sasha watched, chest tight like she couldn't breathe. Her nails bit into her palm. She was ready to bolt—until Mira's voice cut through. "Sasha, where's your gift? When are you giving it to me?" Just like that, every head turned. Sasha froze. Then slowly pulled the gift she'd prepared ages ago from her bag and handed it over. Mira was mid-smirk, ready to drop some snide comment— But Vincent stopped cold. His eyes zeroed in on Sasha's hand. "Where'd you get that bracelet?" She blinked, thrown by the bite in his voice. Her fingers drifted to the bracelet, like muscle memory. Back when he was blind, she used to dress up anyway—like he could see her. She always wore that bracelet. He'd hold her hand, trace the stones, ask about them. Now? She stayed quiet. Vincent lunged, grabbed her wrist. "Answer me. Why do you have this? Who are you?" Chapter 5 Sasha hadn't expected him to recognize a bracelet before he recognized her. Her chest tightened, emotions swirling too fast to name. She opened her mouth— "Sasha, you didn't get my permission," Mira cut in. "Why'd you steal my bracelet?" She stepped in fast, claws out. Her nails raked across Sasha's hand, slicing clean lines of blood. Sasha hissed, yanking back—too slow. Mira threw herself backward like she'd been shoved. Vincent's face shifted in an instant. He caught Mira like it was instinct, eyes locking onto Sasha—cold and unreadable. "So that's it. I almost believed you." His voice dropped. "You stole Mira's bracelet. And when you got exposed, you attacked her? Sasha, you're disgusting." No hesitation. No space for her side. Just blind trust in Mira. Something icy slid down Sasha's spine. She lifted her bleeding hand, voice shaking with raw, helpless fury. "If you remember this bracelet, then you should've noticed—Mira never wore it after you got your sight back. Because she doesn't even know it exists. She was never the one who—" Crack. Donald's hand smashed across her face. Everything went black as she crashed into the champagne tower. Glass shattered around her as the champagne tower collapsed, soaking her in sticky cold. She hit the floor hard, cuts blooming across her skin, her whole body screaming. Tears mixed with blood and glass. Diana stalked over, face like stone. Without a word, she dumped her wine straight over Sasha's face. "Mira didn't wear it," she snapped, "because it was damaged and sent out for repairs. The butler just got it back today. You slipped it on while we were gone and tried to pass it off as yours?" Donald jumped right in. "It's bad enough you cause drama at home, but today? Your sister's birthday? You embarrassed the entire Clarke family. That bracelet was your grandmother's favorite—meant for her most beloved, Mira. You? You were never in the running." Vincent didn't even question it. Just like that, he believed them. He held Mira close while she fake-cried like her lungs were collapsing, gently wiping her tears. Then he crossed the room, crouched by Sasha, and grabbed her bruised wrist. He unclasped the bracelet, wiped the blood off with his handkerchief, and gently fastened it around Mira's wrist like it was sacred. "This holds your grandmother's love—and our five years together," he said softly. "I won't let anyone stain that." After that, Vincent turned to Donald, his tone ice-cold. "Mr. Clarke, Sasha stole family property and showed her true colors. Aren't you going to discipline her?" Donald nodded like he'd been waiting for permission. He barked for someone to bring a whip and grabbed it himself. "By family rules, what Sasha did today earns fifty lashes. I failed to raise her right and ruined everyone's celebration. I'll punish this unfilial daughter right here and uphold the Clarke name." The whip cracked down. Sasha's body jolted, her back torn open on impact. Pain exploded through her spine. A scream ripped from her throat. Blood soaked through her clothes in seconds. Everything blurred. Her voice came out in shattered gasps. "I didn't... steal anything. That bracelet... it was mine. Grandma gave it to me..." She lay there, shaking, drowning in pain and blood. Vincent didn't flinch. He just covered Mira's eyes and walked her away. As their silhouettes faded, Sasha shut her bloodshot eyes. She bit down on her torn lip, already smeared with blood and tears, and stayed silent. When it was over, Donald and Diana didn't even look at her. They just left. One by one, the guests and staff trickled out, whispering, sneering—no one stopped. No one cared. She stayed there, wrecked on the cold floor, the lights clicking off around her. Darkness swallowed everything. Chapter 6 Sasha didn't make it to the hospital till early morning, limping in solo once she scraped together enough strength. The doctor flinched when he saw her. Took three hours just to clean and wrap everything. She was shaking so bad her clothes stuck to her from sweat. Ended up snapping a few nails from clenching too hard. After two days in that hospital bed, the scabs finally started forming. During that stretch, Mira blew up Sasha's phone with nonstop taunts: [Mom and Dad said they're turning your room into a nursery. When Vincent and I bring our baby home, that's where they'll stay. So when are you clearing out your junk?] [Went wedding dress shopping today. Vincent couldn't pick, so he bought them all. I tried on heels till my feet were dead—he even rubbed my legs after.] Sasha scrolled through photos of him staring at Mira like she hung the stars. Sasha's eyes were empty. Nothing left. She didn't reply. Just waited for the pain to fade, then went home and packed. Besides her documents and bare essentials, she trashed everything. Not a single thing stayed. The butler hovered nearby, nervous. "Your sister wants you in the basement. The light's bad, but it's big. You don't have to toss all this." Sasha stared at the stripped room, voice flat. "No point. I won't need any of it. Throw it all out. I'm leaving the country soon. I'm not coming back." The butler stiffened. "You're leaving... and not coming back?" Before the butler could respond, Vincent pushed into the hallway. "Who's leaving and not coming back?" He barely got the words out before Mira popped out of the bedroom. "Why're you here so early? I haven't even finished my makeup." Vincent didn't even look at the butler. Just walked over, tapped Mira's nose. "No rush. I've got time." "I can never get my brows right," she pouted. "You're good with your hands—help me?" They laughed, chatted, and slipped back into the room, door swinging shut behind them. Sasha looked away, silent, dragging her packed suitcase behind her. The rest of the day, Vincent and Mira were stuck together like glue—grossly affectionate. He made her breakfast, fed her piece by piece, arms around her like they were in some rom-com. They watched movies—he kept pausing to explain random Easter eggs like it mattered. Out on the balcony, he kissed her hard, let her lipstick stain his collar. The way he smiled at her... yeah, there was no hiding it. The servants, catching glimpses, couldn't help whispering. "Mira and Mr. Scythe are glued together. Not even married yet, and already acting like newlyweds." "She's been spoiled since forever. Once they tie the knot? Forget it. No one'll be able to tell her anything. Girl's got it made." "Feel bad for Sasha though. Ignored her whole life, then falls for her sister's fiance? That's brutal. Same blood, totally different luck." Sasha stood behind the door, hearing every word. Her eyes dropped, quiet. She used to ask fate why it hated her so much—over and over. But dying once? That changed everything. If she had to fight that hard to keep something, it was never really hers to begin with. Family. Love. All of it. So now? She didn't hold on to anything. She just wanted out—no mess, no looking back, no getting dragged down again. Chapter 7 At dinner time, the staff said Donald and Diana had booked a private room at some hillside hotel and expected everyone there. Sasha opened her mouth to bail, but Mira yanked her into the back seat before she could get a word out. The whole drive, Mira kept talking, and Vincent just played along—every word. "Vincent, after we get married, can we honeymoon in Eurphie? I wanna see the aurora, hit up fashion week, all of it. You'll have to take, like, a million pics of me. I want your phone, laptop, tablet—everything—set to my selfies. No repeats." "Deal," Vincent said. "I'll even hire a few pros to sharpen my skills. Gonna catch you at your best, print every shot, hang 'em in my office and study. That way, anytime I miss you, I just look up." "Then don't back out later. When we have kids, we'll flip through those albums with them. Hey, how many do you want? If it's a boy, he should totally look like you—tall and hot. But if it's a girl, she better take after me..." They kept going, like Sasha wasn't even there. She stared out the window, silent. The day Vincent got his sight back, she'd been out cold on sleeping pills, trapped in a dream. In it, she was the first face he saw when he woke. After that, no one else existed to him. He stuck to her side, lined up surprise after surprise, took her everywhere, showed her a world bursting with color. He dropped to one knee and proposed like he meant it. Walked her down the aisle hand in hand. Wrapped his arms around her and their kid for family photos. In that dream, she had someone who loved her for real. A tiny family that was hers. Then she woke up, and it all popped like a bubble. She'd given everything she had—and still ended up dying a brutal death. Her thoughts were spiraling when the sharp screech of brakes yanked her back. A sports car was barreling straight at them, clearly out of control. Then—boom. Metal crunched, glass exploded, and their car smashed headfirst into a bridge pillar. Sasha felt like her whole body shattered. Blood poured from her forehead, arms, legs—everywhere. The pain hit so hard she couldn't even breathe, like she was being ripped apart from the inside. Through the blur of red, she forced her eyes open—just enough to see Vincent pulling a shaking Mira from the wreck. The doors on both sides were crushed in. Flames were already licking up from the trunk. Sasha bit down hard, lips splitting as she forced herself to stay awake. Her body screamed in pain, but she dragged herself toward the front seat anyway. Every move left a trail—blood dripping on the seats, pooling on the ground. She'd barely made it out and stumbled a few steps when the car blew. The explosion roared behind her, flames shooting high, the shockwave slamming her into the pavement. She stared at the wreckage, heart ice-cold. If she'd hesitated, blacked out for even a second... she would've died in that fire. Again. From the moment it all went down to the second she clawed her way out—five minutes passed. And not once did Vincent look her way. Even after Mira was safe in his arms, he never turned back. Never even thought to check if Sasha was still breathing. Watching Vincent hold Mira close, whispering soft reassurances, Sasha let out a tired, bitter smile. Her strength gave out. Eyelids heavy, like someone had dropped bricks on them. Somewhere in the blur, ambulance sirens wailed. Nurses' voices cut through the haze. "The other patient's in critical condition—she's already unconscious from blood loss. Mr. Scythe, she needs surgery first or she won't make it!" "Mira's hurt too! Treat her first. I don't care what happens to Sasha—just save Mira!" That voice. Cold. Familiar. Sasha cracked her eyes open just enough to see Vincent's face—tight with panic, but not for her. Donald and Diana showed up right after, crowding around Mira, tears streaming. "Save Mira first. She's our treasure. If anything happens to her, how am I supposed to face my wife?" "Exactly. We're their family. If Sasha doesn't make it, we won't blame the hospital. Just focus on Mira!" Every word landed the same way—they chose Mira. Again. Whatever hope Sasha still had snapped and went dark. Blackness rushed in, pulling her under. That old helpless fear from the moment she died before wrapped tight around her all over again. Chapter 8 Sasha hadn't expected to still be breathing. That hospital stink—disinfectant and cold metal—hit her first. She blinked up at the ceiling, brain foggy, limbs dead weight. The doctor hovered nearby, sounding way too relieved. "We fought over ten hours to keep you alive. Good thing you woke up." Her eyes twitched. Voice rough. "Thanks for not giving up." He nodded, then paused. "The people who brought you in... were they your real parents?" Her lips parted like she might answer—then nothing. Just silence. The doctor caught the look on her face and backed off. Didn't push it. Just sighed and walked out. Two days passed. No visitors. No texts. Just her and the quiet hum of machines. Then discharge day hit, and guess who finally showed? Donald and Diana. Not with flowers. Not with a "how are you." Just this: "Mira's wedding's tomorrow. You said you'd leave, so don't be here when it starts." Their voices? Flat. Like it was a business meeting. Sasha just nodded. When Sasha didn't argue, their faces finally relaxed. "For your sister's sake, just step aside," Donald said. "Once things settle and they have a kid, we'll bring you back. The family'll be whole again. We transferred money to your card. Take care in Inglane." Then they left. Off to dote on Mira. Sasha watched them go, pulled the Inglane ticket from her pocket—and ripped it to shreds. She grabbed her phone and booked a flight to Austerra instead. They wanted her gone? Fine. She'd disappear. Just not the way they expected. She'd leave so clean, they'd never find her again. After leaving the hospital, Sasha went straight to a lawyer and filed a formal declaration of estrangement. She signed it without shaking, slid the papers into a box, then added the old recording she'd made years ago—Vincent telling her stories back at the Scythe house. She'd tried to give it to him so many times. He never listened. Not once. Now she was done carrying it. Whether he ever hit play wasn't her problem anymore. She was erasing herself from their world. And this time, no one would find her. *** That night, the house buzzed with wedding prep. Laughter, music, clinking glass—Sasha barely slept. She was up early, ate a quiet breakfast, then hauled her suitcase to the trunk. Right as she was about to leave, the groom's motorcade pulled up. There he was—Vincent. Sharp suit, cool expression, every inch the perfect groom. Sasha met his eyes and gave a small nod. "Vincent." First time she'd ever said his name like that—like a stranger. Vincent's eyes cut to the car behind her, frown settling in. "You don't have to come to the wedding. Just stay home." Yeah. They were scared she'd ruin it all. Sasha didn't flinch. She handed over the gift box, voice even. "I'm not crashing your wedding. I'm not messing with your happiness. I just wanted to say... congrats. Goodbye." She turned, got in the car, and shut the door without looking back. Vincent stood there, heart pounding as the engine roared to life. Something in him panicked—he wanted to stop her, ask where she was going, what she meant by 'goodbye.' But before he could say a word, Mira's voice cut through the morning. "Vincent, hold me!" she chirped, all dressed in white. Through the rearview mirror, Sasha caught it—Vincent, grinning as he chucked the box to his assistant like it was nothing. Then he turned, all charm, and swept Mira up in his arms. As the car eased out of the neighborhood, Sasha rolled down the window and flung her phone into the wind. That version of her? Gone. She wasn't that girl anymore. The new Sasha was done waiting—and she was done being found.