You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone

My arms burned where the embers had struck, the pain sharp and persistent—but I barely cared. I returned to my bedroom, pulled the first-aid kit from the drawer, soaked cotton with alcohol, and pressed it against the raw skin. The sting hit hard, stealing the air from my lungs.

Still… it wasn’t anywhere near as painful as watching the man I loved erase me, little by little.

There was a time when Ethan hovered over me like I was fragile glass. Even the smallest cut sent him into a panic. He’d grab my hand, drag me off to the infirmary, his face pale as if he were the one bleeding out. I used to tease him for being ridiculous, but deep down, I cherished it. He made me feel treasured. Chosen.

Now… he didn’t even see the burns on my arm.

He didn’t ask.

Didn’t pause.

He simply walked away—Liora tucked safely at his side.

That night, I finally let myself break. The tears I’d been holding back slipped free, trailing down my cheeks and dripping onto my injured skin. The sting was immediate and vicious. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. But even that sharp pain couldn’t compare to the dull, crushing ache spreading through my chest.

---

The following two days made one thing painfully clear: I had already fallen out of Ethan’s world.

Liora stayed glued to him, clinging as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. She followed him everywhere.

At the dining table, she leaned toward him with a pout, nudging his arm playfully. “Ethan, can you feed me the shrimp? Please? It tastes better when you do it.”

I sat across from them in silence, pushing food around my plate, while Ethan actually lifted the shrimp and brought it to her lips. She smiled, pleased, leaning into his shoulder—completely unbothered by my presence.

Later, while a movie played softly in the background, she curled up against his chest on the couch. “Hold me tighter,” she murmured. “The loud scenes scare me.”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

Every time I passed by, Liora would tilt her head and smile at me—sweet, sugary, sharp. “Mira, you promised, didn’t you? You said you wouldn’t mind if we acted close like this.”

Each time, I answered the same way. A small smile. A gentle tone.

“Of course not.”

Eventually, I wasn’t sure whether I was lying to her—or to myself.

What I couldn’t deny was that my body was failing faster than I wanted to admit.

Liora was meant to be my donor. My cousin. My blood. The only person who could save me. Yet she treated it like a bargaining chip, dangling my survival just out of reach, enjoying the control.

---

That evening, I stood in front of the mirror and barely recognized the girl staring back. Pale. Thin. Unsteady. I realized I might soon lose the strength to even stand.

That was when I decided.

Before my body completely gave up, I wanted one final photograph.

A picture for my funeral.

So even if Ethan forgot my face someday, he would still see me once more—smiling, breathing, alive.

At the photo studio, the photographer smiled kindly. “You have such delicate features, miss. Is this picture for an ID? Or a graduation photo?”

I looked straight into the lens. My voice was calm, detached. “It’s for my funeral.”

His hands trembled so badly I thought the camera might slip. He didn’t ask anything else. I stayed still, endured the flash, and told myself this would be the image placed beside my coffin.

While waiting for the print, laughter drifted in from the entrance.

I froze.

I knew that sound—Ethan’s low chuckle, threaded with Liora’s bright giggle.

I turned and saw them walking in together, arms linked, looking every bit like a couple out on a casual date. Liora noticed me and widened her eyes. “Mira? What are you doing here?”

I slipped the photo into my pocket. “Just needed one for my ID,” I replied evenly. “What about you?”

She leaned her head against Ethan’s shoulder, soft and affectionate. “Couples should have albums, don’t you think? We took photos a few days ago. We’re here to pick them up.”

Ethan glanced at me quickly. “She really wanted it. I just went along with it. Once you recover, we can do one too.”

I nodded, saying nothing, my chest tightening.

The staff called them over to view their pictures. I tried to step away, but Liora caught my wrist. “Mira, help us choose. You have better taste.”

Before I could refuse, she pulled me over.

The screen lit up.

Photo after photo of them together—hands entwined, smiles effortless. In one image, they kissed under a glowing sunset. In another, Ethan wrapped his arms around her from behind, both dressed in white, looking perfectly matched.

Each image pierced me.

Liora’s voice rang beside me, bright and cutting. “Which one do you think makes us look happiest?”

I opened my mouth—

And then chaos erupted.

A loud crash echoed through the studio as shelves toppled over.

Ethan reacted instantly, throwing himself over Liora, shielding her completely.

I wasn’t so lucky.

The sharp edge of a metal shelf slammed into my shoulder. Pain exploded through me as fabric tore and warm blood spilled down my arm.

“Ethan, it hurts!” Liora cried, clutching her arm where there was barely a mark.

He panicked immediately. “You’re bleeding. We need to go to the hospital.” He scooped her into his arms and rushed for the exit.

He paused once.

Turned back.

His eyes met mine—me pinned beneath the shelf, blood pooling as I struggled to pull myself free. Our gazes locked for a second… maybe two.

Then he looked away.

And left.

I dragged myself upright, shaking, and made my way to the hospital alone.

As the doctor stitched my wound, he frowned. “Why didn’t someone bring you here? You lost a lot of blood. This could’ve been dangerous.”

I clenched my teeth as the needle pierced my skin. “There was no one to bring me.”

He hesitated. “That’s odd. A young woman came in earlier with a small scrape. Her boyfriend was frantic—demanded extra tests.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “That man… was my boyfriend too.”

The doctor froze. He didn’t ask anything else. He finished in silence.

Late that night, as I struggled to change my bandage alone, the door finally opened.

Ethan stepped inside—and stopped short.

His eyes widened when he saw the wound. “Mira… what happened to you?” His voice broke as he rushed toward me.