Chapter 2

Alycia Lawson (POV)

"Come on, slowpoke!" I called out, my voice falsely cheerful, trying to shatter the thick tension that seemed to cling to the air like a shroud. I watched Carmelita as she walked a little too fast, a little too carelessly, towards the living room.

She stumbled. Not a graceful stumble, but a full-body lurch that sent her sprawling. A sharp crack echoed in the otherwise silent apartment. My stomach dropped.

"Carmelita!" I cried, rushing forward.

She had fallen right next to the small table where my birthday cake sat, its candles still unlit. The impact sent the cake box flying, and with a sickening crunch, my beautiful, carefully chosen "ocean symphony" cake – a delicate confection of blue and white frosting, adorned with tiny sugar seashells – landed upside down on the plush rug.

My birthday cake. Shattered. Just like everything else.

I knelt beside her, my hands reaching out, but Kyle was faster. He was already there, his arms around Carmelita, his face etched with immediate, raw concern.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" His voice was laced with a tenderness that sent a fresh wave of pain through me. He didn' t even glance at the ruined cake. His entire focus was on her.

My outstretched hand paused, hovering uselessly in the air. He didn't see me. He didn't feel my concern. I was a ghost in my own living room. My hand slowly dropped back to my side, feeling suddenly heavy, useless.

Carmelita' s face was pale, but it was the flicker of guilt in her eyes as she met my gaze that truly hit me. Her lips pressed into a tight line, a silent apology, perhaps. Or maybe, an affirmation of where her loyalties now lay. The momentary silence that followed was deafening, suffocating.

Kyle, still cradling her, finally looked at me. His expression hardened, a strange mix of accusation and defensiveness. "Alycia, why weren't you paying attention? You should have told her to be careful!"

My breath hitched. My own legs, wobbly with fatigue and the ever-present ache, barely held me upright. He was blaming me? For her clumsiness? I felt a cold knot form in my stomach. Was this what I had become to him? An inconvenience? A burden? The fragile shell of a person, easily dismissed, easily blamed.

I looked at the cake, a sad, sugary mess on the floor. The intricate sugar seashells, so lovingly crafted, were crushed, their delicate beauty destroyed. It was a perfect metaphor for my life, for my relationship, for us. Broken beyond repair.

My mind raced, jumping from the painful present to the terrifying future. I was dying. And all I wanted was to leave this world with a modicum of peace, without their deceit hanging heavy in the air. They deserved happiness, even if it was with each other. Even if it broke my heart. I wouldn' t be a martyr, but I wouldn't be a villain either.

I forced a brittle smile, pushing away the sting of tears. "It's fine, Kyle. Accidents happen." My voice sounded unnervingly calm, even to myself. "Carmelita, let me see if you're scraped anywhere."

Kyle still held her, but he shifted slightly, allowing me a closer look. I gently took Carmelita's hand, examining her palm. Already, a small cut was welling up with blood.

"Oh, sweetie, you're bleeding," I said, my voice softening despite the chaos in my heart. "Let's get this cleaned up."

Carmelita pulled her hand away, her eyes wide and glistening. "Alycia, I'm so sorry. The cake... your birthday..." Her voice trailed off, thick with emotion.

"Don't be silly," I said, forcing a light tone. "It's just a cake. Really, it's nothing. I'm just glad you're not badly hurt." I squeezed her arm, trying to convey a warmth I didn't feel. "Honestly, I'm just happy to have you both here. That's the real gift." The words felt heavy, filled with unspoken meaning. And I'm happy you're happy, even if it's not with me.

Kyle, watching us, cleared his throat. "I'll go get some paper towels for the cake. And a first-aid kit for Carmelita." He moved quickly, almost eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

"Don't worry about the cake," I called after him, my voice flat. "Just focus on Carmelita. I can clean this up later." I don't need a cake. I don't need anything now.

I wished for them to be happy, truly. Even if my heart was shattering into a million pieces, even if my time was running out. I just wanted them to be okay, even if it meant my own quiet suffering.

I led Carmelita to the bathroom, my hand on her back. Her skin felt cold through her shirt. I turned on the light, the harsh fluorescent glow revealing the tremor in her hands.

"Let me get you some antiseptic," I said, reaching for the medicine cabinet.

Carmelita sank onto the edge of the tub, her shoulders slumped. "Alycia, I... I feel terrible. About everything." Her voice was barely a whisper.

I paused, my hand hovering over a bottle of peroxide. "Terrible about what, sweetie? It was an accident. We'll order a new cake tomorrow. Or better yet, we'll bake one, just like old times." I forced enthusiasm into my voice.

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Not just the cake. Everything. I just... I don't know what to say."

I turned, giving her a gentle, reassuring smile. "You don't have to say anything. We're best friends, remember? Always. You'll always be my sister." The words caught in my throat. I meant them, with every fiber of my being. She was my family. More than family. She was the one who had taught me what love truly meant, long before Kyle came along. She was the one who had made me feel worthy of it.

Carmelita just stared at me, her gaze clouded with unshed tears, her lips trembling. She said nothing, only watched me with an intensity that spoke of a thousand unsaid things.

Kyle returned, a roll of paper towels and a small first-aid kit in his hands. He looked at us, his eyes scanning Carmelita, then me. He cleared his throat again. "The cake area is clean. I got you a new one, Alycia. It's a simple vanilla, but at least it's intact." He gestured vaguely towards the kitchen.

A new cake. A simple vanilla. My heart twisted. The ocean symphony was gone, replaced by something plain, ordinary. Just like my life had become.

We went back to the living room, the memory of the ruined cake quickly swept away, physically and emotionally. Kyle placed the small, white cake box on the coffee table. The air was still thick with unspoken words, but now, a thin veneer of forced celebration covered it.

"Happy birthday, Alycia!" Carmelita said, putting her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. She kissed my cheek, her lips cool. "Make a wish."

I closed my eyes, the familiar warmth of her embrace a strange comfort. I wish them happiness. I wish them a life together, free from guilt, free from the burden of me. And I wish for a peaceful end.

When I opened my eyes, Carmelita was still smiling, a little too brightly. She pulled me towards the coffee table. "Okay, first presents!" she chirped. She grabbed a small, elegantly wrapped box, thrusting it into my hands. "This one's from me!"

I took the box, my fingers brushing against the cool paper. I looked at Kyle, who stood a little apart, his gaze fixed on Carmelita. He watched her, not me, his eyes full of an intensity that made my chest tighten. My heart ached, a familiar, dull throb. He sees her. Only her. The realization hit me again, fresh and sharp.

"Open mine first!" Kyle said, stepping forward, a competitive edge to his voice. He grabbed another box, almost identical in size and wrapping to Carmelita's. "No, mine! I spent ages picking it out!"

Carmelita playfully shoved him. "No way! Ladies first! Besides, mine's better!"

They bickered, a light, teasing exchange that sent a fresh wave of nausea through me. It was so easy for them, this playful dynamic, this natural connection. It was everything Kyle and I used to be. Everything Carmelita and I used to be.

"Alright, alright, you two," I said, my voice weary. "Let's open them both at the same time, then there's no favoritism." I held up both boxes, forcing a smile that felt like it would crack my face.

I ripped off the intricate wrapping paper from both, my fingers fumbling slightly. Two small, velvet boxes lay nestled inside. I opened Carmelita's first. Inside, on a bed of white satin, lay a delicate silver chain. Attached to it, a small, intricate pendant: a perfectly sculpted ocean wave, its crest glittering with tiny, almost imperceptible diamonds.

My breath caught. My hand trembled as I reached for it.

Then I opened Kyle's box. The exact same delicate silver chain. And on it, a pendant shaped like a majestic mountain range, its peaks dusted with the same tiny, glittering diamonds.

The room fell silent. My hands, holding the two pendants, froze. Kyle's eyes were wide, fixed on the matching jewelry. Carmelita's face drained of color, her jaw slack. The air crackled with a truth so loud, it screamed.