The Girl He Never Saw

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?"