IRENE'S POV
FOUR YEARS AGO
I couldn't take my eyes off the giant cake sitting at the center of the table, my graduation gown hanging loosely off one shoulder.
It must have cost them a fortune to get this cake, I thought, glancing up at my parents.
Tears welled in my eyes.
I made it. I was finally a graduate from the School of performing arts.
I could see the joy etched across their faces. It said a thousand things without a single word: pride, love, endless praise.
I watched as my mom lit the candles on the cake, her eyes full of tenderness and quiet affection.
Just then, Hannah's head popped up beside the table.
"Make a wish, Irene! Make a wish!" she chanted like a little kid.
I smiled. I loved Hannah. Even though we were fraternal twins, we were opposites in almost every way.
Hannah was soft-hearted, kind, and always seeing the good in people. I was too, in my own way but maybe not as easily, and definitely not in every situation.
"Okay, okay! Slow your horses, miss," I joked as Hannah rolled her wheelchair closer to the table.
I leaned closer to the cake and closed my eyes.
"I wish we live forever together, in wealth and health."
I made the wish quietly in my mind and blew out the candlelight.
Hannah gasped in delight, and we burst into a shared laugh.
"What did you wish for?" she asked, tugging gently at my dress with a mischievous smile.
"Be careful not to ruin her graduation gown, Hannah," my mom warned playfully but we all knew Hannah had designed my dress.
She may have been in a wheelchair, but she was one of the most creative and helpful person I've ever known.
"Thank you so much, Mom. Thank you so much, Dad…"
I beamed, grinning from ear to ear.
The first bite, of course, went to Hannah otherwise, she would throw a dramatic fit about how I didn't love her anymore.
It was the happiest day of my life.
Graduating after everything. All the stress, late nights, breakdowns. I couldn't thank them enough.
I glanced up just in time to see Mom sneak a small piece of cake into Dad's mouth.
"Mom!" I called out, one eye peeking above my phone screen.
"You know Dad's diabetic, he's not supposed to eat that!"
"He said he doesn't want to die eating trash as food," she replied, bursting into laughter.
My mom giggled, and my dad chuckled right along.
He had been diabetic for years. His insulin shots were regular, and for the most part, he handled it well. Nothing ever went terribly wrong.
Their laughter filled the room and wrapped itself around my heart.
It was the sound of home. Of peace. Of everything I had ever known.
They had worked too hard for too long. Now, it was my turn.
I was going to take over from them, let them rest and enjoy their old age.
Then, a sudden knock at the door cut through the moment.
Everyone in the room flinched.
"Who is it?" I asked, irritation rising in my voice.
People always seem to show up right when life feels perfect.
Dad insisted on answering the door, so I stayed behind watching as I teased Hannah quietly.
I don't know if I was overthinking it, but there was a flicker of worry in Mom's eyes.
I couldn't make out what Dad was saying at the door, but I knew it had to be something work-related or maybe financial. Those were usually the only reasons visitors came unannounced.
Whoever it was didn't come inside. The conversation was short, almost rushed, and a moment later, Dad quietly shut the door and walked back toward us.
"Who was it, Dad?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
He just smiled and waved it off.
"Nothing serious, princess… What flavor is this cake? I think I'll need a second slice," he teased.
His attempt at humor felt forced. Too light. Too eager.
Mom and Hannah let out dry chuckles, but their eyes didn't match their smiles.
Something was definitely going on.
Something they didn't want me to know about.
I could feel it, even if I couldn't name it.
But I didn't press further. Not today. Not on a day meant for celebration.
They were happy or at least trying to be, and for now, that was enough.
The celebration lasted a while. I found myself smiling at my reflection on the kitchen counter as I did the dishes.
Mom walked in, her head lowered, her face solemn until she saw me standing there.
"Oh come on, Irene, let me do that," she said with a soft smile, gently nudging me aside.
"I'm a graduate, not a sick patient," I said, feigning disbelief.
She burst into a fit of laughter, and I couldn't help but laugh too.
I loved my mom. She was a gentle yet strict woman who had raised Hannah and me with strength and grace.
Her smile could lift sorrow from any soul, no matter the time of day.
"Don't worry, Mom," I said, still smiling.
She stepped back, hands raised in surrender.
"If you say so," she chuckled, turning to work on something else.
Moments later, Dad walked in, a huge grin stretched across his face.
"You look way too happy," I teased with a giggle.
"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" he replied, resting his arms on the counter.
"Care to share with the rest of us?" I raised a brow, drying my hands.
If there was one thing that made my dad this happy, it had to be big.
"Irene?" he said, his voice shifting into something more serious.
A chill ran through my hands, and I realized how tense I'd suddenly become.
"Yes, Papa?" I turned around to face him.
"I made a few calls… pulled a few strings…"
My heart thudded with anticipation, joy peeking from its hiding place.
"Yes, Papa?" I repeated, barely breathing.
"I was able to get you a job at Hansel's Film."
I couldn't process it at first. The joy hit me like a wave.
My knees went weak, and I turned to Mom.
Her smile said it all, full, proud, unwavering.
Tears welled in my eyes.
"I love you so much, Papa," I whispered, and he pulled me into a hug.
That night, I was floating.
I pulled out my musty brown traveling box, brushing off the dust, and began arranging my clothes.
The company was in the heart of the city, far from our quiet countryside life.
I wasn't sure how I'd compare to the city girls, or if I'd even fit in.
But none of that mattered.
I was too excited about the job and the future it promised.
The next morning, I ate my breakfast slowly.
It was as if the joy I'd felt last night had vanished with the sunrise.
The thought of leaving my family and my sweet Hannah, weighed heavily on me.
I stared at the slice of bread on my plate like it held the power to change everything.
Maybe even convince Hansel's film company to move to our side of the country.
"Your breakfast will go cold," Mom said gently.
"Irene, we'll be fine," Dad added, his voice calm and reassuring.
"As long as you're happy and doing well, that's all that matters."
"I'll send you letters every week, Irene," Hannah mumbled, her eyes still fixed on her plate.
They were all trying so hard to keep me from feeling guilty. Trying to be strong for me.
"Yes, Hannah. You will," I replied, and she giggled in that familiar, childlike way.
Then the car blared its horn outside, a sharp reminder that it was time.
I hurried through the rest of my breakfast, knowing deep down that this would be the last meal my mom would cook for me in a long time.
They all walked me to the car, and I hugged them one by one.
I tried to memorize everything. The warmth in their eyes, the scent of home, the quiet pride in their smiles.
As the car pulled away, I turned to wave at them, watching their figures grow smaller with each second.
If I had known that was the last time I'd see them all alive, I would have stayed a little longer. Held on a little tighter. Said I love you a few more times.
But at that moment, all I could do was smile through the glass, and wave goodbye.