The Girl No One Believed

No clue how long it went on.

When it finally stopped, I was soaked, gasping like I'd nearly drowned.

Viviana ripped the gauze out and tossed it like trash.

"Why?" I panted. "Viviana, what did I do? Why do you hate me?"

She stared down, eyes cold. "I don't get why they even brought you back. You were already gone. Lost things should stay lost. And useless people? They shouldn't exist."

She slammed the door.

Her words echoed—

'Stay lost... Useless...Shouldn't exist...'

But I'm their real daughter.

Was it my fault I was taken?

Now I'm finally home, and I'm not even wanted?

Everything spun. I blacked out.

No clue how long passed before I heard her voice outside.

"Antonio, will you stay with me tonight?"

Through the glass, I saw her wrap an arm around his neck, all flirty and fake.

Antonio shoved her off. "I told you—I only love Emilia. She's it for me. We're getting married. Back off."

He walked away without a glance.

I stood frozen, head spinning.

He says he loves me.

So why won't he believe me?

Why let Viviana play doctor while I'm the one getting crushed under it all?

If he ever finds out she's the reason I'm dying...

Would he even care?

Or just regret picking the wrong side too late?

My chest felt ripped open. I shut the door quietly and slipped back to my room.

Pulled the papers from under my bed.

Stage IV lung cancer.

The words hit like a punch.

Three days, the doctor said.

Three days left.

The wedding's in three days.

Guess I won't be there.

I gave a bitter smile and started packing.

Everything was a memory of Antonio.

The clay doll we made—his was hideous, and I roasted him for days.

Our first movie ticket, tucked in my journal.

The necklace he gave me, promising he'd always care.

The sweeter the memory, the deeper it cut.

I boxed it all up, silent tears slipping down.

After packing, I headed downstairs.

My parents were already at the table, loading Viviana's plate.

Dad smiled when he saw me. "Emilia, come eat."

Mom chimed in, all sweet, "You need to eat more, honey. You're not well."

I nodded and sat.

One glance at the food—every dish was Viviana's favorite.

Nothing I could touch with my diagnosis.

I set my fork down. "Mom, Dad, I need to talk to you."

Dad looked up. "What is it?"

"Can we pause treatment for a couple days?" I asked. "I just want to focus on the wedding."

Dad's face dropped. "No. Treatment can't stop."

Antonio tried to soften it. "Your health comes first, Emilia. I'll handle the wedding. You just need to be the most beautiful bride."

Viviana gave her fake sorry face. "If it weren't for the pain from the new plan, you wouldn't be fighting it so hard..."

But her eyes said something else—'See? You still can't run.'

Dad jumped in. "Viviana's not at fault. She's helping you. You can't skip. What if something happens at the wedding?"

Mom nodded. "Exactly. Listen to your sister. One session a day. No skipping. Be good."

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.

'If you knew each treatment was killing me faster, would you still push me?'

Viviana walked over, smiling. "Time for your treatment."

"No—" I flinched.

"Emilia, stop," Antonio snapped. "It's for your own good."

Mom and Dad chimed in, "Listen to us, Emilia."

"If you keep this up, we'll postpone the wedding," they warned, annoyed.

Before, I would've fought. Thrown a fit.

They knew how much I loved Antonio—how much I wanted this wedding.

But now, I just bit my lip and cried quietly.

It's not the pain I'm scared of.

It's losing the little time I have left.

Three days. This could steal even that.

What if I don't make it out of that room? What if this is goodbye?

Mom saw my tears and wiped them gently. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Be good. It won't hurt after."

Viviana smiled, took my arm, and yanked me upstairs. "Let's go, Emilia."

She leaned in, voice low and sweet.

"Resist again, and I'll crank it so high you'll scream."

I looked at Antonio, begging him to see something—but he just told me to stay strong.

Viviana dragged me to the lab and strapped me down.

She picked up a syringe, voice icy.

"Stage IV hurts, huh? Since you're dying anyway, let's test something."

She jabbed the needle in and pushed the drug.

Cold shot through my veins. My vision blurred.

Pain exploded, my body locking up.

'Am I dying?

'Is this it? Will I never see Mom, Dad... Antonio again?'