The Girl He Never Saw

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.