The engine's hum was the only thing steady about me.
My hair, shorter now, brushed against my jaw like a stranger's touch. I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and almost didn't recognize the woman staring back — pixie cut, small tattoo glowing faintly at the side of my neck, a promise inked into my skin:
Rebirth.
I wanted to believe it. That I was new. That I could start again.
But the heart doesn't forget. It only hides what it can't bear to remember.
When I drove through the gates, the mansion looked even larger than I remembered. Maybe it was me — smaller somehow, lost inside a life that wasn't mine yet.
I parked near the fountain, where the air smelled faintly of chlorine and lemon trees. There was laughter coming from the pool.
And then I saw him — Evan, my brother. He was sitting at the poolside, head thrown back in laughter.
But my eyes didn't stay on him for long.
Because she rose from the water.
Mara.
Drops of sunlight clung to her skin as if the world itself couldn't let her go. Her hair slicked back, water gliding down her shoulders in slow motion — like a memory refusing to fade. My stomach tightened. My pulse betrayed me.
It was her.
It was really her.
Not the sister I'd grown up with.
Not the woman who'd pulled me out of the fire.
But her all the same.
I tried to breathe. Failed. Tried again.
I looked away — or tried to — but my mind kept painting her into every thought, every blink, every heartbeat. I didn't know what this was. Was it grief? Guilt? Or something too forbidden to name?
One of the servants opened my door, taking the shopping bags from my hands. My voice came out quieter than I meant:
"Take them upstairs."
When I glanced back, Mara was still by the pool, wrapping a towel around herself, laughing at something Evan said. The sound of it — God, it echoed straight through me.
I turned sharply and walked inside.
My pulse was chaos.
My room was filled with designer bags and new dresses — all soft fabrics and pastel colors, not me at all. I stared at them like they belonged to someone else. Maybe they did.
I opened the wardrobe, stared at the delicate lace and flowers, and shook my head.
"Too much pink," I muttered.
The servant turned, startled.
"Ma'am?"
"Take all of these out," I said, waving a hand. "The ones with tags—give them to Mara. The rest, share among yourselves."
The woman blinked, confused but obedient. I didn't explain. I couldn't.
When they left, I sat on the edge of my bed, trying not to think about the pool, about her eyes, about the way my soul seemed to recognize something my body shouldn't.
But the more I tried, the louder it got.
Every breath, every heartbeat whispered her name.
Dinner came. I told them I'd eat in my room.
So they brought the tray — silver, elegant, untouched. I wasn't hungry. My appetite had drowned hours ago.
I stood by the window. The pool lights shimmered like trapped stars, and there she was again — Mara, still out there with Evan, with my parents now too. Her laughter floated up through the night air.
She looked radiant, alive.
And I—well, I was reborn and already burning.
A knock came at my door.
Light, hesitant.
"Come in," I said, half-expecting a maid.
But it was her.
Mara leaned against the doorframe, hair damp, eyes bright. "You didn't join us," she said, voice slightly slurred, soft with warmth and wine.
"I wasn't really in the mood."
"You're missing out." She smiled — the kind of smile that could start wars. "Evan's gone to call someone, so I thought I'd check on you."
She stepped closer, the scent of saltwater and champagne wrapping around me.
"You look…" She tilted her head, studying me. "…different."
"I cut my hair."
"I can see that." Her gaze dropped to the tattoo at my neck. "And a tattoo? Didn't take you for the type."
"Neither did I."
She laughed — a low, melodic sound that tugged at something deep inside me. She stumbled slightly, and instinctively, I reached for her arm.
Her skin was warm.
Too warm.
"Careful," I said quietly. "You're drunk."
"Maybe a little."
I guided her to the bed. "Sit."
She did. Then she looked up at me with those same eyes that once belonged to another lifetime.
"You're beautiful," she whispered.
Something inside me stuttered.
I swallowed. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why not? It's true."
"Mara…"
She smiled faintly. "Then say it back."
And before I could think, I did. "You're more beautiful."
Silence fell — thick, trembling, dangerous.
We both stared at each other. The air between us was charged, heavy with something neither of us dared name.
Her gaze flicked to my lips. Then to my eyes.
And for one heartbeat, I forgot who we were supposed to be.
Then she leaned closer — not enough to touch, but enough to make the world spin.
My pulse was a drum. My breath caught.
And for a moment, I thought I might fall back into her the way I'd fallen into the fire before.
But then—
A knock.
Evan's voice, muffled through the door: "Ayla? Is Mara with you?"
Mara's eyes widened. I froze.
"She's asleep," I managed to say. "Do you need her?"
"No, just tell her I'm leaving for Belgium. Two weeks. Business trip with Dad."
I waited until his footsteps faded.
When I looked back, Mara was watching me, something unreadable flickering in her gaze.
She smiled faintly. "Goodnight, Ayla."
And then she left — just like that.
The door closed softly behind her, but my heart didn't stop racing for a long, long time.