They say your life flashes before your eyes when you're dying.
That was a lie.
Nothing rushed past me. Nothing rewound itself neatly like a story begging for meaning. Instead, everything slowed so painfully slow it felt cruel.
I lay on the ground as snow fell from the sky.
Not in a storm. Not violently. Just… quietly. Each snowflake drifted lazily, turning as it fell, as if the world had decided to be gentle at the worst possible moment. I watched them descend one by one, my vision unfocused, my eyelashes wet.
When the snow touched the ground beneath me, it didn't stay white.
It melted instantly, swallowed by the dark red spreading beneath my body.
My blood.
The realization didn't come with panic. It came with a dull, distant acceptance, as if my mind had already stepped away while my body stayed behind to finish the suffering. The warmth leaking out of my chest felt wrong—too much, too fast. My clothes were soaked through, heavy and clinging, as if they were trying to pull me deeper into the ground.
There was a gunshot wound in my chest.
I knew that much because every shallow breath sent a sharp, burning pain through my ribs, radiating outward like cracks in glass. My lungs felt tight, as though the air itself had turned against me. Each inhale came shorter than the last, each exhale trembling, fogging faintly in the cold night air.
My eyes stung.
Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the falling snow until everything looked distant, unreal. My body felt impossibly heavy, yet strangely numb at the same time. I wanted to move. I wanted to scream. I wanted to press my hands against the wound and make it stop.
But I was just… tired.
So tired.
My vision wavered as I forced myself to look up.
At him.
Nathan stood a few steps away, the dark outline of his figure cutting through the falling snow. The streetlights behind him cast long shadows, making his face half-hidden, half-exposed. For a moment, I almost convinced myself this wasn't real. That this was a misunderstanding. That he would drop the gun and run toward me, panic written across his face.
He didn't.
As my eyes adjusted, I saw his expression clearly.
Calm. Relaxed.
Smiling.
The cold crept deeper into my body then, slipping past my skin, past my bones, settling somewhere deep in my chest where warmth used to live. My teeth trembled, though I couldn't tell if it was from the freezing air or the shock.
My fiancé.
My soon-to-be husband.
The man I trusted more than anyone else in this world.
My lips trembled as I tried to speak. My throat burned, the words scraping their way out like broken glass.
"Nathan…" My voice came out hoarse, barely louder than the falling snow. "Why?"
The question felt small. Weak. Useless.
Why did you do this?
Why did you come here?
Why is it you?
I swallowed, my chest aching violently at the motion.
"Why did you go this far…?" I whispered. "Is it… is it me?"
My vision blurred again, tears spilling freely now. I couldn't stop them. I didn't even want to. My body was failing, and with it went any pride I had left.
"What have I even done to you," I asked, my breath coming in broken gasps, "to deserve this?"
For a brief second—just a second—I hoped.
I hoped I would see hesitation. Regret. Anything that resembled the man I thought I knew.
Nathan just looked at me.
Then his smile widened.
A slow, deliberate smile, like he'd been waiting for this moment. Like my question amused him.
"Do you really think I loved you?" he asked casually.
The words didn't register right away. They floated in the air between us, light and careless, before sinking into me piece by piece. My chest tightened—not from the wound this time, but from something deeper, something far more painful.
"I just used you," he continued, his voice calm, almost conversational. "You were convenient. That's all."
The world tilted.
Used me…?
My fingers twitched weakly against the snow, staining it red. My heart felt like it was collapsing inward, crushing everything it touched.
"To get my revenge on the Sinclair family," Nathan said, as if he were explaining something obvious. "And now that they're all dead…"
He paused.
His eyes met mine.
"…you're the only one left, Olive Sinclair."
My name sounded foreign coming from his mouth. Heavy. Final.
The cold bit harder, crawling up my limbs, stealing sensation inch by inch. My breaths came shallower, more uneven. Each one felt like it might be my last, and I hated how aware I was of that fact.
Nathan tilted his head slightly, studying me like an object he was done with.
"Next time," he added, his smile sharp, cruel, "try not to trust people blindly in your next life."
Next life.
The words echoed faintly in my mind, absurd and meaningless. There wouldn't be a next life. There was only this—snow, blood, betrayal, and the slow fading of everything I was.
I couldn't look at him anymore.
I turned my head weakly to the side, my vision swimming.
That's when I saw her.
My best friend stood there, just beyond him, her silhouette clearer now as she stepped into the light. Snow settled on her hair, on her shoulders, and she didn't brush it away. She didn't look worried. She didn't look shocked.
She was smiling.
Not a gentle smile. Not a sad one.
It was wrong.
Twisted.
A smile that didn't belong on a human face at all. It reminded me of something sharp and hollow—like a devil's grin carved into stone.
For a moment, my mind refused to understand.
No…
Not you too.
I wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or deny it.
But the truth settled in quietly, cruelly.
Everyone I loved was standing over me.
A gunshot rang out.
The sound was deafening, ripping through the night and echoing painfully in my ears. My body jolted, pain exploding through me one last time before fading into a distant throb.
For a second—a single, fragile second—everything went quiet.
And then… memories surfaced.
Not flashing. Not rushing.
Just drifting.
My family's faces came to mind first. Cold eyes. Distrust. The way they always looked at me like I didn't quite belong, like I was something fragile they expected to break. No matter how hard I tried, it was never enough.
I remembered my mother.
Her smile. Her warmth.
And the day I lost her—because I was too busy trying to please everyone else to protect the one person who truly cared. That regret pressed heavily against my chest, heavier than the wound itself.
I had spent my entire life bending myself smaller.
Saying yes when I wanted to say no. Smiling when I was breaking. Loving people who saw me as disposable.
And this…
This was how it ended.
Alone. Betrayed. Bleeding out in the snow.
A strange calm settled over me.
Maybe my body had finally decided it was done fighting. The pain dulled. The cold no longer bit as sharply. My breaths grew faint, barely stirring the air.
I let myself relax.
If this was the end, then I didn't want to struggle anymore.
The falling snow blurred into white streaks above me, the streetlights dimming, fading. My thoughts grew sluggish, heavy, sinking deeper into darkness.
As the last bit of strength left my body, one thought drifted quietly through my mind.
If I had another chance…
I didn't finish it.
The light went out.