Chapter 8
I remembered every second of that night.
I woke up in the middle of the night and only wanted to tell Ethan to sleep in the extra bed instead of the chair. I sat up and called softly, “Ethan.”
But he was still asleep, elbow propped up, head resting on one hand. Without his usual sternness, his face looked soft. Unprotected.
So naturally I got bad ideas. I started calling him ridiculous things just to mess with him.
“Ethan the student?”
“Lord Ethan?”
“President Caldwell?”
And finally, just:
“Ethan.”
I was already so close. He still didn’t move. The hospital room was dim, and suddenly I wanted to
sée his face more clearly.
That really was my only excuse. I wasn’t trying to kiss him on purpose.
But just as my breath almost touched his skin, Ethan’s eyes snapped open.
Damn it. I’d almost made it.
Luckily, I almost made it.
We stared at each other. He still looked half asleep. He didn’t say anything.
I jerked back, terrified he’d hear how hard my heart was pounding, climbed into bed, and blurted,
“Y-you snore. Go home.”
He didn’t go home. But apparently, he didn’t go back to sleep either.
So he was awake the whole time. Did he open his eyes because he knew what I was about to do?
Floating there above him now, I whispered, “If I’d kissed you, you would’ve only been more upset,
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right?”
And if I had kissed him, would he have believed me when Finn framed me? No. Probably not.
A kiss wouldn’t have bought us more time.
Ethan couldn’t hear me. He leaned closer to me the way I once leaned toward him and stopped when
his lips were almost touching mine.
He looked at my face like he was waiting for me to wake up. But I didn’t.
Not even when tears fell onto my skin.
Then Ethan slowly closed his eyes and kissed me. Softly.
And he kept whispering, “If only I hadn’t opened my eyes. If I’d known, I never would have.”
Known what? That I’d die? Or that I was never really his sister?
The fifteen minutes should’ve been short. They only felt long because they were full of memories.
Then a nurse knocked and came in. Standing there quietly. Telling him time was up without words.
Ethan still held my hand and said, voice ragged with pain, “I should’ve gone to the station sooner…”
Like he really regretted it. Like he’d never forgive himself.
Then Mom appeared at the door.
“Ellie?”
Her face was gray. Her eyes huge. She walked in slowly like she already knew the answer but
couldn’t bear to believe it.
“What happened?”
Then she threw herself over my body and cried, “Ellie, what’s wrong? Wake up. Look at Mom.”
Then she grabbed Ethan’s clothes and shook him. “Say something. What happened?”
And with a face gone empty, Ethan said, “Mom, I love Ellie. I wanted to stay with her forever.”
Mom stared at him through tears. “What?”
Ethan kept going. “She and I aren’t related by blood. I want to be with her. And I’m sending Finn
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overseas. She can never come back.”
Mom nearly collapsed. “Ethan, have you gone insane?”
Then he told her everything. Everything. No hiding. No excuses.
Mom sat in the cold hospital hallway with Ethan kneeling in front of her and said, “So that’s why
you were so determined to make Ellie leave and go back to her biological mother.”
Then she asked, “But why accept it now?”
He didn’t answer that. He only asked, “Mom, do you agree now?”
Mom looked nothing like her usual graceful self. She glared at him and said through clenched
teeth, “Ethan, have you not gone mad enough? Ellie is gone. You can never be together.”
Then she started crying again. “What’s the point of this now? Why were you so cruel back then? Ellie trusted you so much. She was always so good. How could you not believe her? Why did you wait so long before going to get her? Maybe… maybe my Ellie could’ve lived…”
Even I thought that was cruel to hear. At a time like this, blaming Ethan would only make him hurt
more.
We had been family once. We’d spent years together.
It made sense he would feel guilty now that I was dead. Still, I thought the guilt wouldn’t last
forever. His real sister was alive. He hadn’t lost everything.
Sooner or later, he’d go back to being Ethan. Calm. Perfect. Untouchable.
I sat beside Mom and tried to comfort her.
“Mom, I already lived much longer than I was supposed to. If not for you, I probably would’ve died
young from my heart. Just getting to be your daughter for a while made me really happy. So don’t
cry anymore.”
A little later, Mom did stop crying.
Then she opened my backpack and started taking things out. A charger. Toiletries. Then several folded medical reports.
She opened them. The date was from one week earlier. The results weren’t good. The doctor had
recommended further testing.
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Chapter 8
A tear fell onto the paper as Mom cried, “You were feeling bad that early? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I did,” Ethan said blankly, staring at the floor. “She told me. I thought she was pretending to get
attention, so I scolded her.”
Mom shook her head and pulled out a tiny sketchbook.
She opened it. There was a portrait of her. Simple colors. Careful lines. Then one of Dad.
Inside, I started begging silently, Please stop there. Please don’t keep turning the
pages.
But she did. And there he was.
Ethan.
Page after page of Ethan. Ethan working. Ethan driving. Ethan helping me with paint.
Serious Ethan. Gentle Ethan. Spoiling-me Ethan.
Later, the Ethan living in my head was usually angry. Sharp. Cold. But because I hated that version
of him, I never painted him that way.
When I missed him but didn’t dare go see him, I opened that sketchbook and looked at the moments
when I still mattered to him. Then I’d tell myself it was enough.
To have been cherished once was already enough.
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