In that group home, only two kids never got placed: Sasha and me. She was too volatile. I was too timid. When a bully tried to take my lunch, it was Sasha who called me a spineless wimp while she fought to get the food back onto my tray. When I was cornered and harassed in the bathroom, it was Sasha who broke the kid’s nose with a single punch, officially branding her with a ‘violent tendency’ and ensuring no family would ever take her. She’d stake her claim with the air of a true boss: “Dean, she’s my territory, got it?” Under her fierce, protective wing, I finally made it to school. That’s where I met Dean. He didn’t mock my shaky English or the way I struggled to fit in. He shielded me from the stares and stayed after school every day to help me catch up. He wrote me over two hundred love letters and confessed his feelings beneath a burst of fireworks, which made me cry until my face was blotchy. I always thought I must have saved the world in a past life to be blessed with both of them. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. I got the cancer diagnosis. And then, I stumbled upon Dean pinning Sasha against the back of his car, kissing her until her lips were swollen. Sasha, trembling and teary, whispered, demanding, “How are we supposed to face Liv after this?” “Of course, I don’t want to hurt Liv,” he answered, his voice rough with need. “But I just can’t stop loving you, and you feel it, too, don’t you? What am I supposed to do?” I managed a strained, tight smile and shoved the diagnostic report deep into my coat pocket. What are you supposed to do? That’s an easy one. That night, I booked my appointment for euthanasia. 1 The sleet was cutting, stinging my face. This was the first snow of the season, and it was brutal. I stood behind the corner wall, watching them embrace. The hand Dean used to cup the back of Sasha’s neck still wore the couple’s watch we’d picked out together. And Sasha? She was bundled in the scarf I had personally knitted for her. She treated that scarf like sacred armor. Not long ago, Dean had accidentally snagged it on a doorframe, and she’d screamed at him like a harpy. “I swear, I can’t deal with him! Liv, don’t you dare stop me—I’m going to make him understand who the queen of the house is today!” I was the one who had to mediate and soothe both of them until the peace was restored. They were the two people I loved most in the world. How could they have turned into this? My hands and feet were frozen stiff, but I waited half an hour. Only after they had both straightened their clothes and wiped their faces did I step out from the most visible spot, forcing a look of mild surprise. “Hey, you guys are early?” “And the birthday girl is late! You’re buying the first round,” Sasha said, pulling the scarf away and looping it around my own neck. Her eyes were full of staged concern. “You’re an ice cube. Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” I realized my eyelashes were crusted with ice chips. In the past, when it snowed, Dean would immediately wrap me inside his massive coat, terrified I’d catch a chill. Now, he hesitated for two full seconds before stepping forward to lightly brush the flakes off my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Liv. I should have been more thoughtful.” When his hand landed on me, Sasha’s face tightened almost imperceptibly, and she lowered her gaze. Dean instantly pulled back two steps, putting half a yard of space between us. I shook my head, pretending not to notice a thing, and flashed them a wide, goofy grin. “Oh, please, I’m not that delicate. Come on, let’s get upstairs. You two have to make this the best birthday ever.” After all, this was my last one. Sasha puffed out her chest and declared, “You know it! Just wait till you see my present!” Dean scoffed. “Don’t get cocky. Mine might be the one she actually loves.” They started their usual banter, a back-and-forth that immediately lightened the air. When Dean and I first started dating, Sasha was openly hostile toward him. Now, it sounded like playful flirting. I stretched my lips into a fake smile and took the lead. “You two better hurry up, I’m starving!” I wanted to pretend I didn’t see, to keep my back turned so I wouldn’t cry. But the streetlights had a cruel way of elongating shadows. In my periphery, I watched Dean’s hand subtly reach for Sasha’s shadow. Sasha’s step faltered. Her fingers trembled, curling slightly, but she didn’t pull away. The two shadows finally overlapped. A perfect pair. 2 “Get inside, it’s freezing out here.” I quickly pulled the door open, eager to break the tension. “Hold on, hold on, I’m coming!” Sasha laughed, quickening her pace in her heels, but she was clearly distracted. She stumbled as she crossed the threshold. The birthday cake she was holding crashed to the floor. I rushed forward to steady her. “Watch out!” Dean beat me to it, catching her around the waist and pulling her upright. He immediately crouched down, checking her ankle with frantic urgency. “Are you okay? Can you walk?” My hand was left hanging in the air. Sasha’s smile had frozen on her face. The silence that descended was thick and unnerving. Dean flinched, instinctively opening his mouth, but no explanation came out. When his eyes met mine, he shifted his body, standing like a shield in front of Sasha. His voice was husky when he spoke. “Liv, please don’t be mad. Sasha is just clumsy, she didn’t drop the cake on purpose. I’ll order a new one right now.” I stared at him, watching him protect Sasha. It was the same way Sasha had always stood in front of me, protecting me, since we were children. Somewhere along the line, I had become that small-minded person in his eyes—the one who would throw a fit over a ruined cake. Cream was splattered everywhere. The customized figurines of two girls holding hands had cracked and lay in ruined pieces. I didn’t want to spend the end of my life in conflict with the people I loved most. It was just a shame my last birthday wouldn’t be a graceful one. Two anxious gazes were fixed on me. I awkwardly tucked my suspended hand back into my pocket, my fingers brushing against the crumpled hospital note, and turned away, forcing a lighthearted laugh. “I’m not a three-year-old, guys. Why would I be mad about that? We can celebrate any day we want.” “Dean, why don’t you clean up the mess? I’ll go find the first-aid kit—we should have some cream for bruises and sprains.” My nonchalant attitude seemed to only deepen his guilt. Dean lowered his head in apology. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll re-order the cake.” I waved a dismissive hand. It’s fine. I just want both of you to be happy. I helped Sasha to the sofa and gently applied the ointment. There were tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She reached for my hand, then pulled hers back. “Liv, don’t be so naive. You can’t keep telling people not to worry. This is how you get taken advantage of.” I shook my head stubbornly. “I’m not being taken advantage of. I’m lucky.” “Sasha, if it’s for you, I’m willing to accept anything.” Sasha bowed her head and didn’t speak again. By the time the cream had dried, Dean had finished cleaning and was calling us over to the new cake. It was rushed, but still beautiful. Yet, it felt like something essential was missing. Dean lit the candles. In the flickering light, my eyes landed on a framed photo on the corner table. It was Dean and me in our school uniforms, holding hands tightly. Sasha, in a red spaghetti-strap dress, was clutching my other arm, glaring at him with mock hostility. That day, they genuinely couldn’t stand each other. “Hey! My scaredy-cat finally likes someone, and if you dare hurt her, you’re dead!” “No way! Look at you, dressed like a trashy club girl—you’re definitely not a decent friend.” Sasha’s eyes had darkened for a second. I had immediately scolded Dean. When the group home closed down at age fifteen, Sasha dropped out of high school to work and keep me in school. She took a job as a streaming model, dressing provocatively. Every time I tried to argue or offer to split the burden, she’d send me back to class with a furious yell. “How old am I and how old are you? I blew my shot, but you’re still young. Go get yourself a real future.” “Do you want people pointing at you and calling you a tramp? Get your ass back to class! You don’t need to worry about the money!” She was only three years older than me. The memories flashed like a film reel. I closed my eyes and made my sincere wish. I hoped my best friend and the man I loved most would be eternally happy. Even after I was gone. Once I blew out the candles, Sasha eagerly cut the cake and then playfully smeared a dollop of frosting on my nose. “Congrats, Liv, another year wiser.” I forced my mouth to curve, but then I saw Dean’s intense gaze—it was glued to Sasha. Tender and lingering. The familiar bitterness surged up again. Sasha was oblivious, cheerily pulling out a small gift box. “Check it out, do you love it?” Dean snapped back to reality, jostling her aside. He held his own gift tight in his palm and leaned in mysteriously. “Guess what I got you?” “Oh, you brat, don’t try to steal my thunder! Don’t you dare compete with me!” Sasha pouted, cheeks puffed out. “You two old enemies, stop fighting and give me a break,” I said, rubbing my temples. Since neither of them would concede, I had to open both gifts at once. The moment I did, all three of us froze. 3 They had chosen rings from the same designer collection. The styles were incredibly similar: Dean’s choice had a mountain range engraved into the band, while Sasha’s featured a swirling ocean wave. Unintentionally, perfectly, they formed a matched set. A complementary "Sea and Mountain Vow." Sasha looked completely thrown. I laughed boisterously, snatching both rings and quickly sliding one onto my left hand and one onto my right. “No wonder we get along so well! Look how in sync you are! I was stressing about which style to buy, and now I don’t have to choose, hee-hee.” “Only a child makes choices. I’m an adult, and I’m taking both! One on each hand, perfect.” I pulled out my phone and took a dozen flashing pictures. My cheerful performance didn't alleviate the awkwardness in the air; in fact, Dean’s tightly pressed lips seemed to make it worse. Only Sasha offered a strained smile. “He definitely copied my idea. But since Liv loves them, I’ll let it go.” Dean’s face relaxed slightly, a silent confirmation that he would accept that lie. My mind was a chaotic mess, so I quickly poured us drinks, trying to drown my thoughts in alcohol. The irony was that Sasha, usually the one who could drink anyone under the table, was the first to dissolve into a sloppy mess. She was mumbling into her wine glass. “Liv… don’t leave us…” I wanted to say something comforting, but my throat felt rusted shut. I couldn't utter a single word. Dean stood up, grabbed her jacket with practiced ease, and draped her over his shoulder. “Liv, I’m taking this lush home first. Don’t wait up for me; just go to bed if you’re tired.” I nodded quietly. I watched from the balcony as they walked away, leaning on each other. I knew, logically, that Dean wouldn’t take advantage of a drunken Sasha. I was certain they hadn’t physically crossed the line. But how do you stop a heart from drifting? I took a deep, shuddering breath and scooped a bite of cake. The cream was sickly sweet and tasted bitter. I dropped the fork and retreated to the bedroom, planning to start packing up my belongings. I accidentally knocked over a box and found the love letters Dean had written me when he was eighteen. Two hundred-plus letters, packed tightly with memories. Liv, I noticed you a long time ago, but you always looked down, and I was so curious about what you were thinking when you were quiet. You are timid, yet you had the courage to feed the stray cat behind the school that even the security guard was afraid of. You are incredible. Silly girl, I didn’t save you—you gave me the chance to express my love. What I say at eighteen will be true at eighty. Liv, we will grow old together. Every word was earnest, heartfelt, and deep. Reading them again, my nose began to sting, and my lips curled into a gentle, mournful smile. But then, I flipped the page and my breath caught. The back of the letters had new handwriting. It’s strange. I always thought of Sasha as a trouble-maker, and I only tolerated her for Liv’s sake. But I’m starting to realize she’s… different. I saw Sasha finishing her stream today. It’s freezing, and her face was bright red. I felt a pang of concern. I have to control myself… I accidentally brushed her hand while we were walking. She pulled away like she’d been shocked, but her earlobes turned bright red when she snapped at me. Could she feel it, too…? Liv finally acted playfully jealous with me today, but Sasha looked distinctly disappointed. I don’t want to run from my feelings anymore. I need to be honest with her. The writing was sporadic, turning my two hundred love letters into a two-sided confession. The new script was just as sincere and passionate as the old. I estimated it began about a year ago. The back pages were now nearly as long as the front. His heart had started to drift a long time ago. The most recent date was just yesterday: I’m so sorry, Liv. But it’s time to end it. I’ve already failed you; I can’t fail Sasha, too. A wave of tears finally broke, rushing down my face. I couldn’t catch my breath. My chest was tight, a sharp, needling pain, and I coughed heavily, a splatter of warm, thick blood hitting my palm. I scrambled for a tissue. That’s when Dean came back. He pulled the door open instinctively and peered in. “Liv, are you awake?” 4 The door gap widened. I stumbled toward it, slamming my back against the wood to keep it shut. “I have a bit of a headache. I’m already trying to rest.” My shirt was stained with blood. The letters were scattered on the floor, a brutal mockery of my composure and self-deception. Dean paused, then tapped twice, asking if I needed medicine. I brushed him off with a quick, shallow response. I couldn't face him. I was terrified he would rip the raw truth open. I didn't know if the man outside the door was more worried about me being sick, or if he was hoping to cut ties quickly so he could openly pursue the girl he truly loved. I didn't know what face I would wear when the inevitable moment came. After a long time, the house finally fell quiet. Dean must have gone to bed. I restored the room to its original state, packed a small bag, and drove myself to the city hospital. The doctor frowned, trying to persuade me. “Are you sure you don’t want chemotherapy? It’s late-stage lung cancer, but aggressive treatment can still give you more time.” “You are still… very young.” I smiled and shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m only staying a few days before I leave.” My original plan was to leave all my savings: enough for Sasha to upgrade her streaming studio, and seed money for Dean’s start-up. But I was too afraid of pain, so I selfishly took a portion for myself and booked the foreign clinic for my procedure. Seven more days, and I would be free. When it came down to it, I was still the same coward. No progress at all. The next day, Dean called. I gave him a flimsy excuse and hung up. For seven days straight, he called countless times. Each time, I found a different reason to reject him. Eventually, I couldn't bear to hear his voice at all. I remembered the fierce, eighteen-year-old love I saw under the fireworks. I couldn’t bear his change of heart. I wanted to beg him not to be so cruel—just a few more days, and I would be gone. I wouldn't bother them anymore. It felt like if I didn't acknowledge the truth, I could still die feeling loved. But on the night before my procedure, as I was sorting my documents, Dean called again, his voice cracking with urgency. “Liv! Sasha’s stream just went dark, and her phone is off! Something’s wrong, I’m driving over there right now, but the conference center is too far! You need to go—drive over and check on her!” My eyes widened. I didn't stop to question why he was monitoring her stream. I just shouted, “Don’t panic! I’m on my way!” I ripped out the IV, threw on a thin undershirt, and was out the door, speeding toward Sasha’s apartment. I lost count of the red lights I blew through. I didn’t hear the angry honks of the other drivers. I could only pray Sasha was safe, my foot pressed hard against the accelerator. I only slowed down when a cop flagged me down at an intersection. “Ma’am, the road ahead is closed due to a cave-in. You’ll have to take a detour.” Cold sweat beaded on my forehead, but I knew arguing would only delay the police, so I took the longer route. By the time I arrived. Sasha’s clothes were ripped, and a stunned-looking punk was unconscious nearby. Dean was already there. He was bruised and bloody, clearly having fought the attacker off, and he was holding the trembling Sasha, soothing her over and over. My knees gave out. I stumbled, kneeling on the cold ground, reaching out to her. “I’m late, I’m so sorry…” “Get away! Why are you putting on this show?” Dean’s eyes were bloodshot. He aggressively slapped my hand away, standing over Sasha defensively. “You were so close! Why didn’t you get here in time to save her? If you had been faster, Sasha wouldn’t have—” “You’ve always happily taken everything she’s given you. Why couldn’t you sacrifice just once for her? Why are you always so damn selfish!” “Stop it!” Sasha silenced him, forcing a shaky smile for me. “The animal didn’t get to me. I’m fine.” My throat constricted, and my nose felt tight and itchy with despair. But Dean couldn't stop his frantic outpouring. “Sasha! I was terrified for you. Don't push me away!” Sasha’s body shook at his words. She lowered her head. She didn’t refuse the coat Dean wrapped around her. Dean took a deep breath. “How could you be fine? This is going to haunt you forever. Liv, what the hell have you been doing these past few days?” The only answer was the silence of the heavy snow. I stared at the fresh needle marks on the back of my hand, shivering in my thin shirt. Guilt and deep hurt churned inside me. I couldn’t say anything but I’m sorry. “Liv, without Sasha, you wouldn’t be alive today. She was in danger, and you were nowhere to be found. You’re a stranger to me now, and I’m deeply disappointed.” Dean pulled her close, his face cold as he looked back at me, his eyes sharp, as if I were the enemy. “Let’s take some space. We need to separate for a while. You need to reflect on what’s happened.” I gasped, ready to explain everything, but a fierce cough brought up a mouthful of blood that splattered on the snow, turning it a vivid, painful red. As I tried to conceal it, Dean had already lifted Sasha into the passenger seat and floored the accelerator. He never looked back. I dropped my gaze to the blood on the ground. I truly was a failure. I ruined everything I touched. Wiping the bitter taste from my mouth, I moved my stiff legs and continued, zombie-like, to the airport, just making my flight. The landscape outside the cabin window began to blur. Two familiar faces came into focus in my mind. Sasha was smiling brightly, flashing a peace sign. Dean was playfully flicking my nose, complaining he might get jealous. I remembered my fifteenth birthday wish. I hope my best friend is always by my side, and the person I love is right across from me, forever and ever. What a pity. It never came true. I sent a final text message. I wish you both a happy ending.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "387473", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel