~ 🖤
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The rain was relentless.
It hammered the windows, a constant drumbeat of noise that filled the room, a noise that Maya couldn't escape — not even as she sat there, the diary open in front of her. The words in it were still sinking in, each entry more twisted than the last.
Mira wasn't the sister Maya had thought she was. The perfect twin. The golden girl. The one everyone else loved. No. Mira had been something darker, something more dangerous.
Maya looked at the diary again. Her hands shook, but not from fear anymore.
From anger. And something else.
Maya felt it shift within her — that weight of truth.
She wasn't the one to blame for Mira's death. It wasn't her fault. And she wouldn't carry that burden anymore. Not after all these months of blaming herself, not after all the guilt she'd let fester in her chest.
She closed the diary slowly, her fingers grazing the worn leather. The sound of it snapping shut echoed in the quiet room.
Then, the door creaked open. She didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Elias.
He stood in the doorway, soaked to the bone from the rain, his expression unreadable. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, his usually perfect composure shattered.
His eyes flickered down to the diary in her hands, and then back to her. There was no anger in them. No disgust. Just something… different. Something raw. And broken.
"You read it," he said.
Maya didn't reply right away. She just stared at him, a hundred emotions swirling inside her.
And then she whispered, "I know the truth."
Elias didn't respond, his jaw tightening as though the weight of her words hit him like a slap. He stepped inside slowly, like he wasn't sure if she would shut him out.
And maybe she would. Maybe she had every right to.
But she didn't.
"Tell me what happened, Elias," Maya said quietly, her voice steady. "Tell me everything."
For a moment, he didn't speak. He just stood there, as though he was fighting with himself, wrestling with the ghosts of the past. Finally, his voice broke the silence.
"It was supposed to be a simple night," he began, his eyes distant. "We'd fought. You and her. Outside that stupid party. You two were always at each other's throats. And Mira—she was so damn angry. She always was. She got in the car and slammed the door, told you she'd make you suffer for making her feel small."
Maya clenched her fists, her heart hammering.
"I followed you two. I didn't know why, but I did. I didn't want to let you go alone. I thought I could stop whatever was about to happen."
He paused, and the guilt in his eyes hit her like a ton of bricks.
"She was already in the car. You got in, slammed the door, and the engine roared to life. You took off too fast. She screamed at you. Screamed at both of you. I saw the look on her face, the way she twisted the wheel in your hands. She grabbed the wheel, Maya. Not you. It wasn't you who lost control."
His voice broke, the memory too much for him to bear.
"I saw her reach for it. She made sure it was her fault, not yours. You were already too far gone. I could hear the tires screeching, the sound of the road fighting you, and the crash — that was the last thing I remember hearing. When I ran to you, you were unconscious. Blood was everywhere."
Maya's body went still.
"So you let her die?" she whispered, her throat tightening with the words.
Elias closed his eyes. "I didn't let her die. I couldn't save her. I didn't know what to do. I froze. I thought I could stop it. I thought I could fix it. But I couldn't. She was already gone, Maya."
"I thought I was the one who killed her," Maya said, her voice barely a whisper. "I've carried that with me. Every day. Thinking I caused that crash. I thought I was the one who lost control."
"You didn't," Elias replied softly. "It wasn't you. She made sure of that."
Maya stood up, her chest tightening. The storm outside raged, but the storm inside her felt much worse. She felt the weight of all those months of guilt slip off her shoulders, but it left behind a hollow ache that nothing could fill.
"Then why did you let me think that? Why did you let me carry that for so long?"
Elias stepped closer, his gaze searching hers. "Because I didn't know how to face you. I didn't know how to tell you the truth. I couldn't tell you that I was there. I couldn't tell you I watched you drive away, watched her yank the wheel, and then watched her die."
Maya's breath hitched. "You were there."
"I was."
The silence between them grew heavy.
And then, softly, Maya spoke the words she hadn't dared to say until now:
"You hated me for surviving."
Elias's face crumpled. He looked away, his chest rising and falling as though the weight of those words had shattered him.
"I did," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "Because it felt like you took everything. You lived. She didn't."
Maya's heart cracked, but she didn't feel anger. Not anymore.
"And now?" she asked, her voice steady.
"I don't know." His voice was raw, vulnerable. "I don't know what I feel anymore. I can't stop wanting you. But I don't know if I deserve you."
She took a step closer, closing the distance between them. His breath hitched as her fingers brushed against his arm. She could feel the electricity between them, but it wasn't filled with hatred or guilt anymore.
"I don't hate you," she whispered. "But I can't keep pretending either."
Elias's gaze flickered to her lips, and for a moment, Maya thought he might kiss her. But instead, he stepped back.
"We both need time," he said, his voice tight. "But I promise you this: I'll never lie to you again."
Maya nodded, the weight of his words sinking in.
And as the storm continued to rage outside, the tension between them thickened. But for the first time in a long time, it felt like they were standing on the same side — the same ground.
Both broken.
Both survivors.
And in that brokenness, something darker, more dangerous, began to grow.
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