My brother’s face darkened at the sight of her. He pushed her toward the door.
“Get out! My sister doesn’t want to see you. And don’t expect to get a penny from me.”
“Hah, playing the devoted brother now?” Selene sneered. “You destroyed her. She’ll never forgive you. You can never go back to how things were!” She turned to me with a cold smile. “Skye, do you know? When you were sent to the rehabilitation center, I urged him to visit you. But he said even if you died there, you deserved it…”
“Enough!”
Like a madman, my brother kicked Selene to the ground and wrapped his hands around her throat.
His eyes blazed with murderous rage. Perhaps he wasn’t just trying to destroy Selene, but also the version of himself that had hurt his sister.
Selene struggled in agony as bright red blood began to flow from between her legs.
She miscarried. Afterward, she fought back like a feral creature.
But my brother watched coldly as she was dragged into a car.
“Every suffering my sister endured, you’ll experience too.”
As my body gradually recovered, I returned to school, picking up the college life that had been interrupted.
I made new friends and started a new life, slowly healing myself.
But I didn’t go home. That place still made me uncomfortable.
My brother sent me large sums of money every month. He said he was giving me everything he earned.
During holidays, he would cautiously ask if I was coming home.
In the winter of my junior year, I received a phone call.
My brother was critically ill.
When I saw him in the hospital bed, he was just skin and bones. Seeing me, he managed a weak smile.
“My Skye, you’ve grown more beautiful. That’s good.”
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“I’m dying, Skye, but I haven’t finished atoning. When will my sister forgive me?”
He reached for my hand and gently grasped it.
“Selene went insane. The Pack banished her to the borderlands. And I… I’m dying. All my assets are yours.”
He looked at me, his expression growing more sorrowful.
“Skye, I’d love to hear you call me ‘brother‘ one more time.”
That day, the first snow began to fall, snowflakes drifting past the window.
I called him “brother” one last time. I don’t know if he heard me.
He never opened his eyes again, but tears slid from the corners.
I watched the dancing snowflakes, remembering when I was eight, building a snowman with my brother while Mom took our picture.
We were so happy back then.
I miss those days, but we can never return to them.
