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“You brought me a cake?” I glance up at him, and he smiles.

I’ve forgotten what a birthday feels like. I turned twenty yesterday, but as I stare at the cake in my hands, I’m no longer here.

I’m twelve again, standing before flickering candles, not knowing it would be the last time I’d ever make a wish.

“T-thank you…”

“Candles?” He looks around, patting his pocket and my gaze slides, searching for Sergei.

He stands in the corner; his arms folded across his chest and his eyes are stuck on my face.

A mixture of anger and pain mars his face. I nod, beckoning him closer, unsure if he’ll listen.

A breath I hadn’t realised I was holding spills free as he strides forward and kneels before me, his face only inches from mine.

“Happy birthday, zolottse.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “We’re not done talking.” He adds, already reaching into Roman’s pocket to snatch the lighter, flicking it alive in one swift motion.

“Make a wish, dollface.” Roman’s voice fades into white noise as Sergei holds my gaze captive.

I close my eyes, making a wish for the first time in six years, hoping—just once—it might come true.

I lean forward and blow out the flame.

“Good girl.”

The words brush against my ear, barely louder than a breath, lost beneath Roman’s shouting and the swell of clapping around me.

“I love you, Elara.”

FORTY-SEVEN

Elara

People remember us by the emotions we make them feel. Could be anger. Could be sorrow.

And as my sister glares at me with so much hatred in her eyes, I find myself wondering where I stand among it all.

I wonder what fault of mine was grave enough to deserve this.

“What are you doing here?” Amara’s voice is vacillating, her hands trembling, clutched firmly around the sheets.

“What happened that night?” Not bothering to reply, I ask and stalk towards her direction, halting near her bed.

She peers down; her gaze fixed on her hands as her fingers fumble over each other.

“Amara, I’m not here to blame you. I just need the truth.” Rage churns violently in my chest, but I keep it buried, my composure unwavering.

“I found you and Sergei near the lake; you were barely alive but he was worse.” She speaks in a low tone. “I hauled you on my back…a-and—” she pauses to look up. “And I left him there.”

I gulp, the motion catching painfully in my throat, like I’m choking on it, but I force it down. The backs of my eyes burn, my throat tight with the strain.

She doesn’t deserve a reaction from me.

She left him there to die.

I clear my throat. My lips parting, forming words, but the emotion clogs everything before they can escape.

“Why?” I manage to say. “Because…”