The Girl He Never Saw

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.