I Was Dying While You Chose Her

Viktor was sitting in the living room when I got home.

My twin was tucked against his side, pressed far too close for comfort, casually feeding him slices of fruit as if he already belonged to her. She looked relaxed. Content. Victorious. Like all she had left to do was wait for me to die so she could collect what she thought was hers.

“Alina!”

Viktor shot to his feet the second he saw me. The expression on his face was a strange mix of relief and guilt. He immediately held out a small gift box.

“I bought this for you,” he said quickly. “If you accept it, then it means you agree. You’ll let me stay with her until this is over so she can help you. Please, Alina. Just say yes.”

My gaze settled on the box.

I didn't touch it.

Didn't even raise a hand toward it.

“I don't want the gift,” I replied.

My lips trembled, but I forced my voice to remain steady.

“I'll agree anyway.”

He blinked in surprise.

“You mean that?”

“Yes.”

The single word felt like glass in my throat.

My twin immediately stood and hurried over. She wrapped her fingers around my arm as though we were close sisters again instead of enemies sharing the same blood. Her smile was bright enough to fool anyone who didn't know her.

“That's great,” she said cheerfully. “Then let's get along from now on, okay? No being jealous. Viktor is only helping me experience my dream. He already promised me one month. After that, everything goes back to normal.”

Slowly, I removed her hand from my arm.

“I won't be jealous.”

The tension visibly left Viktor's shoulders.

He immediately disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a bowl of soup. The smile on his face was almost proud, as if we'd just solved everything and become one big happy family.

“I made this for you,” he said. “It's good for rebuilding blood. Eat a little.”

The aroma was comforting.

Familiar.

For one stupid moment, I wanted to trust him.

I lifted the spoon and took a sip.

Instantly, fire spread through my throat.

My eyes widened.

“No—”

I grabbed my chest.

Cold sweat broke out across my skin.

“Shrimp,” I choked out. “You put shrimp in this. Viktor, I'm allergic. You know I'm allergic.”

His face lost all color.

“I thought...” He looked horrified. “I thought it was peanuts. I got them mixed up.”

My twin tilted her head innocently.

“No, darling. You're remembering mine.” She smiled sweetly. “I'm the one allergic to peanuts. I told you that last week, remember?”

The room spun.

A sharp pain tore through my chest.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Couldn't do anything except stare at him.

He remembered her allergy.

Not mine.

The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me was Viktor shouting my name.

As though it mattered now.

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at another hospital ceiling.

Viktor sat beside the bed.

His eyes were bloodshot, his face exhausted. He was gripping my hand so tightly it almost hurt.

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out the moment he realized I was awake. “It was an accident. Please believe me. I've canceled everything. For the next few days, I'm staying with you. Only you. I swear it won't happen again. Just... please forgive me.”

I turned my face away.

“You don't have to apologize.”

My voice came out quiet.

“Your place is already beside her. Just focus on remembering what she likes now. Take care of her.”

I paused.

“And stay away from me, Viktor. I'm serious.”

Panic immediately flashed across his face.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Nothing between us is real. It's just an agreement. One month, that's all. I'm pretending because she's the only one who can save you. Stop making it into something else. You're my wife. You're the person I love.”

He reached toward me.

Instead of taking his hand, I pulled the blanket higher.

“I'm tired,” I whispered. “I want to sleep.”

His hand lingered awkwardly in the air before dropping back to his side.

After a moment, he stood.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Get some rest.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

For some reason, the sound hurt more than it should have.

The second he was gone, I opened my eyes.

Tears slipped silently into my pillow.

Pointless tears.

Because I already knew the truth.

My time was running out.

Aplastic anemia was slowly consuming me, patient and relentless.

Later that day, I forced myself out of bed.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

I made my way to the closet and pulled out an old dust-covered box hidden behind stacks of forgotten things.

Inside was an entire lifetime.

My lifetime with him.

Movie tickets from our first date.

A cheap bracelet he'd bought from a night market back when he still laughed easily.

Polaroids from happier days, before guns, blood, and mafia business started taking up more space than love.

Every picture showed me smiling.

And in every single one, Viktor's arms were wrapped around me.

My chest ached.

I spent hours sitting on the floor, sorting through every memory.

Touching every insignificant little object as though it would be the last time.

Maybe it was.

When dawn arrived, I carried the box outside.

I lit a small brazier.

Then, one by one, I fed our memories to the flames.

The fire climbed higher.

Photographs curled and blackened.

Promises turned to ash.

Then a furious voice shattered the silence.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Before I could react, my twin charged toward me and shoved me hard.

The brazier tipped over.

Burning coals scattered across the ground.

Several landed against my arm.

I gasped as pain shot through me.

“Bianca—”

I stumbled backward, clutching the burn.

She didn't stop.

She lunged toward me again, her eyes blazing with outrage that I knew was completely fake.

“If you didn't want me here, you could've just said so!” she cried. “Why are you burning my things?”

To anyone else, she sounded hurt.

To me, she sounded pleased.

The commotion brought Viktor running outside.

The moment he saw her, he rushed straight to her side.

“What happened?” he asked, pulling her close protectively. “Are you okay?”

She buried herself against his chest, already crying.

“Viktor...” she sobbed. “She hates me so much. She started burning all my things. Look! She doesn't want me here!”

Only then did he look at me.

For the first time in weeks.

My heart stopped.

But what I saw in his eyes wasn't love.

It was disappointment.

“Alina...” His voice was heavy with disapproval. “How could you do something like this? After everything she's sacrificed for you? After agreeing to help with your treatment? This is how you repay her?”

I couldn't breathe.

Slowly, I bent down and picked up a half-burned photograph from the ashes.

My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped it.

“Look closely.”

My voice cracked.

“These aren't hers.”

I held up the charred photograph.

“They're mine. Ours.”

It was a picture from the previous winter.

Viktor had wrapped his scarf around my neck because I kept complaining about the cold.

For a moment, his expression froze.

“Why...” His voice softened. “Why would you burn these?”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“Because they're ruined.”

My eyes stung.

I tossed the photograph back into the fire.

“I don't want them anymore.”

“No.” He took a step forward. “Alina, these are our memories. You told me we'd look through them together when we were old. Why would you throw them away?”

A small, broken smile touched my lips.

“Don't you understand, Viktor?”

My voice trembled.

“I'm dy—”

“Viktor!”

My twin's voice cut through mine.

She held up her hand dramatically.

“I think I burned it when the brazier fell.”

Just like that, I ceased to exist.

His attention left me instantly.

The concern in his eyes vanished from my direction and settled completely on her.

“Come inside,” he said, taking her hand. “I'll put some ointment on it.”

With one arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the house.

He never looked back.

Not even once.