Miracle's POV
For the second time that day, the world went black.
Then, I heard laughter. Giggles. A little girl, no more than five, barefoot and chasing a man with long black hair. He was all in white, a stark contrast against the sand.
He was laughing too. He slowed, letting her catch him. The sound of her pure joy was a physical ache. I couldn't remember the last time I felt that. I wasn't sure I ever had.
The man turned, scooped her up, and threw her into the air. So high. But she wasn't scared. She trusted him completely. He never let her fall.
"Higher! Again!" she shrieked, breathless with delight.
He did. As he caught her, a woman snapped a photo, a little boy clinging to her hand.
"Higher, Daddy…higher!"
One last toss, one perfect catch, and he settled her on his shoulders.
"Enough, bumblebee. You'll get dizzy."
"No, I won't!" More giggles.
They walked down the beach. The girl beamed.
"Who's beautiful?!" she yelled, a tiny dictator demanding praise.
"Your mama is! I'll love her till the end of time and after!" her father replied without missing a beat.
She clapped. "Who is enchanting?!"
"Xavier is! He's my soul! I love him one million times ten!"
The little boy giggled, squirming with happiness.
"Who is the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world, Daddy?!" Her eyes were wide, already knowing the answer.
"You." He kissed her nose. "You know why?"
"Because you're my daddy?"
"Yes. But also because you're my own little Miracle. I would die for you. You have my heart forever, baby girl."
"I love you, Daddy."
"I loved you first. I win."
The recognition was a slow, cold drip in my veins.
That laughing, trusting, loved little girl was me.
I used to be her. Steve hadn't just broken my heart; he'd murdered that girl.
A gentle touch on my forehead. My eyes snapped open.
The dream was gone. I was in the plush, silent interior of a luxury car. Soft music hummed from the stereo. The air smelled clean.
I was on the backseat. Xav was driving.
"Hey," I croaked.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Hey."
I touched my forehead. It was professionally bandaged. "Thanks."
He didn't reply. Instead, he signaled and pulled the car over onto the shoulder, killing the engine. The silence was suddenly immense.
He turned in his seat to look at me. The resemblance was there—the same green eyes, the same stubborn set of the jaw—but where I was sharp angles and broken pieces, Xav was solidity. He had our father's build, broad-shouldered and powerful, a wrestler's physique crammed into the driver's seat. His eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, were flat and hard.
The tension in his posture wasn't just anger; it was a dam holding back a flood.
"I'm sorry, Xav," I started, the words pathetic and small.
"Shut up." His voice was low, a controlled detonation. "Just shut the fuck up, Miracle."
I flinched, the command a physical blow. I stayed silent.
"Do you hate me?" The question was a whisper.
"Yes." The word was immediate, absolute. "Yes, I do."
"Xavier—"
"No!" He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. The whole car shuddered. "I said no talking!"
He shoved the door open and got out, storming to the back of the car where he leaned against the trunk, his back to me, shoulders heaving.
I followed slowly. I didn't speak. I just stood there, waiting for the storm to break. There was nothing I could say that would matter.
He finally turned, his face a mask of pain and fury. "You know how everyone says Mom and Dad are cosmic soulmates? That it would take a cataclysm to break them? Well, guess what? It didn't take a cataclysm. It took you."
"Xav, I—"
"You looked our father in the eye," he barreled on, his voice cracking. "A man who would burn the world for you. A man who gave up a throne to give you a normal life. And you told him if he came after you, you would destroy us. You would tell the world we weren't biologically his."
He took a ragged breath, his knuckles white where he gripped the car. "We have a little sister, Miracle. Beetle.She was thirteen. She heard you. Mom and Dad were... shattered. It fell on me to explain to our baby sister why her world was ending. To convince her Dad was still our Dad."
The truth of it, laid out so baldly, was worse than any physical injury. I felt sick.
"You were my best friend," he said, the anger finally bleeding into pure hurt. "And I had to go through the worst fucking year of my life without you. So yeah. I hate you. But the sickest part?" He let out a bitter, broken sound. "I love you more. And I can't fucking help it, you are my sister"
I moved then. I placed my hand over his on the trunk. He stiffened but didn't pull away. I leaned my head against his arm, a gesture from a lifetime ago.
"Tell me everything," I said, my voice raw. "I'm here now. Tell me."
Xavier exhaled, a long, shaky breath that seemed to drain the fight out of him. "Mom took it the hardest. And she took it all out on Dad."