The moment I saw Nicolette, it felt as though the entire world paused to take a breath. She was radiant, the embodiment of light and hope in a life that had known far too much darkness. Our parents called her their rainbow child—the miracle after years of anguish.
And then the crash happened.
I survived, though some days I wished I hadn't. The guilt was a weight I carried endlessly; a chain that tightened every time I thought of her laughter or the warmth of my mother's embrace.
Through some stroke of fortune—or maybe pity—every foster home that took me welcomed Nicolette too. We were never separated, and amidst the chaos of our fractured lives, we clung to each other like two halves of a broken shell, our bond unyielding.
Still, I couldn't help but wonder. If only it had been me instead. If only my mother had survived in my place. Nicolette deserved her, deserved the kind of love that only a mother could give. Instead, she had me—a child pretending to be an adult, fumbling in the dark, desperate to shield her from the cruel, unforgiving world that had stolen everything we held dear.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♔ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
A soothing warmth enveloped me, cradling me in its embrace. It felt like stepping into sunlight after a storm, the gentle kind that kisses your skin and whispers that you're safe.
Did I die?
I blinked, my vision a haze of soft gold and amber as the world slowly came into focus.
The air carried the delicate scent of honey, sweet and calming, wrapping around me like an old, familiar memory. The glow of the setting sun seeped into the room, painting everything it touched in shades of molten orange and soft gold.
The walls, adorned with delicate golden filigree, shimmered in the fading light, their patterns intricate and endless, as though etched by an artist's loving hand. Above me hung a chandelier, its crystals refracting the sunlight into a gentle cascade of sparkling brilliance.
Tall, arched windows framed the scene with grace, their cream-colored drapes flowing like liquid silk to meet a floor polished to a mirror-like shine. A grand rug, woven in soft creams and subtle golds, stretched across the space, its patterns adding to the room's quiet elegance.
Beneath me, the bed was unlike anything I had ever known. The plush mattress cradled me, soft as a cloud, while the frame—four towering, golden columns—seemed crafted for royalty. A canopy of cream silk draped from above, falling in waves that encased the bed in opulent serenity.
