The heavy rain didn't stop my tears — they burned as they fell, hot and merciless.
I can still hear her voice cutting through the storm:"Get your sorry ass out of here."
The words echo, sharp and final."I don't want to see you again."
Her image flashes before me — brown eyes wide and blazing, filled with a hurt that could curse me for a lifetime. That was Suzan. My Suzan.
We'd been together nearly ten years, ever since the day we met in music school.And I cheated. For the third time.
I don't know why I'm like this. She's the love of my life, yet for a fleeting moment of pleasure, I threw it all away.Maybe I'm just… never satisfied.
Now I stand here — drenched in rain, guilt, pain, and shame — outside my twin sister Selina's door.This is our old family house, the one that still smells faintly of the past.
Our parents died a day after we were born, in a devastating car accident.But my grandmother — the woman who raised us — always believed their deaths weren't just an accident.
She said it was the result of their final prayer, a desperate plea to some mysterious god.
The funny thing is, they were never religious. No prayers, no worship, nothing.Even my grandmother wasn't, not until that day.After the crash, she changed. She began to believe that something greater existed — something powerful enough to answer, or punish, prayers.
I didn't even call Selina before coming. But I don't think she's home — her car isn't in the driveway.That's fine. I still know where the spare key is.
I'd better get inside before she sees me like this. Before she finds out what I did to Suzan… again.
Ah, there it is — under the plant pot.Some things never change. Selina's still predictable, just like always.
I turn the key, the old lock clicking open with a tired groan.Dragging my soaked bag behind me, I step inside, leaving muddy footprints across the worn tiles.
The lights are still on. Typical Selina — she never remembers to turn them off.But there's something else.
A smell.
At first, it's faint, almost hidden under the scent of rain and damp clothes.Then it hits me harder — a sharp, metallic tang that doesn't belong.
My breath catches. The air feels heavy, charged, like the moment before thunder strikes."Selina?" I call out, but my voice sounds small in the hollow quiet.No answer.
I push forward, the boards creaking under my weight, that strange smell growing stronger with each step.Something's off. Deeply off.
And in that moment, as the storm rages outside, a thought flashes through my mind —maybe I shouldn't have come back.