"Gemini!" The sound of her father's voice, Demian, was instantly followed by a stinging slap across her left cheek.
It was always me, Gemini thought, a numb repetition in her heart. No plea for forgiveness, no matter how tearful, had ever been heard. Their eyes, like all eyes in this house, were only fixed on Aquarius.
"Y-yes..." Gemini's acknowledgment was a faint whisper, a ghost of her former, more desperate self. The constant emotional neglect had fractured her spirit, leaving her with a dual personality—one compliant and one fiercely private—that no one in her family truly understood.
"You're really a troublemaker," her mother, Martha, sighed, her voice weary with disappointment.
Gemini simply looked away. In this second life, she had decided to accept whatever blows came her way. She knew her time was short. Her first life ended in murder, but before that, a deeper truth: she had been diagnosed with a terminal brain cancer with only a month left. It was a deadline she now carried into her rebirth.
"Loser," Aquarius hissed from the side, a familiar, venomous whisper.
Gemini didn't refute it. She didn't rise to the bait as she had in the past. She had given up that futile fight.
"Father," Gemini said, turning to Demian, her voice shockingly steady. "I want to go back to Grandfather's."
Demian was briefly stunned, then relief washed over his face. "Fine," he conceded easily. It was better than dealing with a 'troublemaker' daughter.
"Thank you," Gemini said, a genuine, albeit brittle, smile touching her lips. She left them to pack her meager belongings.
Maybe... I can be happy there... A single tear tracked a path down her cheek. Five months had passed since her rebirth, and the dynamic hadn't changed. Her best efforts for their love only fed Aquarius's spotlight. Now, the motivation was gone. There was no love for her in this family.
Grandfather's Embrace and a Brief Reprieve
When Gemini arrived at her grandfather's remote hometown, she was welcomed with an outpouring of warmth she hadn't known since she was a small child. Here, she could laugh freely, unburdened by the need to constantly perform or please. They accepted her—her silences, her imperfections, her every flaw—until her body, the fragile vessel of her second chance, began to crumble.
"I should have come here sooner," she whispered one evening, the illness tightening its grip. "But it's okay... at least I finally have some love to accompany me."
Gemini was on her last breath. Her grandfather was a man of profound warmth and kindness. She wanted to see her parents one last time, a final, unquenchable human desire, but she knew they wouldn't come. Still, her grandparents tried, making frantic, unanswered calls.
"It's okay," she whispered, her voice fading. "Gemini has enough love now, and honestly, I am too tired. So, until we meet again."
Those were Gemini's last words.
Her funeral was attended by a small, loving group from the village. Her family was absent. Later that day, her grandparents sent a short, final text message to Gemini's father: Don't bother coming. Gemini is free now.
The Bitter Aftermath
Three months later, Demian arrived at the simple cottage, looking haggard and lost.
"Father, I have come to pick Gemini back," Demian stated, his voice tight.
"It's okay," his father, a man now weathered by profound grief, replied with cold finality. "Even if you grovel in front of me, I won't be giving her back to you. I will keep her by my side until my last breath."
Demian couldn't process the words, urging his father to be reasonable, to give his daughter back.
Pak!
The sharp, unexpected sound of a slap cracked the silence. Demian staggered back, watching as his father walked away, tears streaming down his face.
"How could you do that to her..." the grandfather sobbed, his voice broken. "She was a pure, hopeless girl... and you crushed her."
"M-mother, please," Demian pleaded, turning to his grandmother. "Help me. I just need to talk to her."
The grandmother looked at her son with a sad, desolate smile and asked him to follow her. They walked in silence until they stopped in front of a small, grassy plot.
"W-why are we in front of a cemetery?" Demian's confusion quickly curdled into horror.
"T-this is impossible!" He fell to his knees before his daughter's simple, modest headstone.
"We tried to reach you, Demian," his grandmother said, her voice devoid of its usual kindness. "Three months ago, we called, but you said you were too busy. So, we gave up. Do you know, Demian? Even in her last moment, she still hoped for a warm word from her family. It never came true. I have been wondering too... what did I do to have a son like you? Why did you become such an irresponsible father?"
Demian could only stare at the engraved name, his daughter's name.
"I am sorry..." he choked out, the tears finally coming.
No matter how many times he called out for his daughter's forgiveness, it was fruitless. Gemini was no longer there.