Avery's POV –
As I stepped into Dad's office, a faint shiver ran through me.
Everything was exactly as it had been before.
The books neatly lined on the shelves, the papers carefully arranged, the scent of old leather mixed with cold coffee… Nothing had changed.
Well—almost nothing. Not a trace of dust. Mom had made sure of that.
I stayed still for a moment.
Every detail stirred a memory: laughter, arguments, secrets shared here, sometimes heavy silences—and even his usual mess, which Mom always said I'd inherited from him. I missed it.
Everything collided inside my head, and before I realized it, my cheeks were wet.
I wiped them quickly, as if denying the tears could erase the pain.
I had to move forward.
That's what everyone said.
But how do you move forward when you're still carrying the guilt of a past you don't even understand?
If I hadn't asked him to come that night…
Dad might still be here.
My gaze lingered on a photo resting on the desk.
His hand on my shoulder. My bright smile.
A frozen moment—before everything fell apart.
The door opened behind me.
I stiffened.
"I knew I'd find you here," Daniel said, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"What are you doing here?" I murmured, wiping my cheeks.
"I was looking for the most annoying girl in the world," he replied simply, then added with a crooked smile, "Or maybe I was running away from Mom and her existential questions about my social life."
I barely looked up, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
"I thought the most annoying girl in the world was Claire."
"She still holds the gold medal, don't worry. But second place is definitely yours," he said with mock seriousness.
He took a few steps inside, glancing around the room.
"It's been a long time since I saw you here… in Dad's office."
I nodded.
"I just wanted to… look at a few things again."
His smile faded.
"You should stop doing that."
"Stop what?" I asked, confused.
"Punishing yourself," he said bluntly.
I froze.
"I'm not punishing myself," I replied with a laugh that sounded fake even to my own ears.
"Yes, you are, Avery. You keep believing it's all your fault."
"And it isn't?" I whispered, looking away, my fingers brushing the shelf beside me.
He stepped closer.
"Of course it isn't."
"Daniel, please…" I took a step back, unable to hold his gaze.
He sighed.
"You know… I used to think so too."
I looked up.
"Think what?"
"That it was your fault Dad… died."
Silence.
"But now I know I was wrong."
"Why are you saying that?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
He shrugged, nervous, eyes avoiding mine.
"Because I was jealous of you. And I still am, a little," he admitted with a bitter laugh.
He ran a hand through his hair.
"You were always his favorite. And that night… if Dad had stayed with me instead of rushing off like he always did when you called, maybe he'd still be here."
His voice cracked.
I stayed silent, unable to respond.
"At least, that was the first thing I thought when we got the news," he continued, sitting on the edge of the desk.
He rubbed his face, his voice rough.
"And I even wished you'd died too."
A nervous laugh escaped him, quickly stifled.
"Yeah. I was that kind of guy. Dad had just died, and I wanted my sister to go with him."
I stared at him, tears filling my eyes.
"You must think I'm cruel. Or just immature," he added, his voice trembling despite the forced smile.
"I can understand," I murmured. "If I'd been in your place, I probably would've thought the same."
"Seriously? Saint Avery showing compassion?" he said with a weak laugh, a tear sliding down his cheek.
"Dani…" I whispered, helpless.
"You know what made me let go of that thought?" he continued quietly.
He paused.
"It was seeing Mom cry. For the first time. Her—who always pretended everything was fine."
He shook his head.
"That's when I realized I was the biggest idiot alive. And even after you woke up, I was still angry. At you. At him. At everything. Until I started hating myself."
A strangled laugh escaped him.
"The problem with being an unrecognized genius like me is that I notice everything," he went on.
"I saw what you were becoming, Avery. You faded. You weren't the girl who laughed anymore. Not the annoying pest who used to mess with me. Just… a shadow. And that's when I understood how selfish I'd been."
I didn't hesitate.
I wrapped my arms around him—tight.
As if I were trying to keep him from disappearing too.
He froze in surprise, then let out a soft laugh against my shoulder.
"Pretty sure I was supposed to be the one cheering you up," he muttered.
"You're stealing my spotlight again," he added with a faint smile.
I tightened my grip.
"Shut up."
"Avery… you're choking me," he managed, half-serious, half-amused.
I let go with a quiet laugh, my cheeks still wet.
"Sorry."
He placed his hands on my shoulders, his voice gentle again.
"What I'm trying to say is—you need to stop punishing yourself. It's not your fault. It's just… fate decided to completely screw up our lives."
I laughed, despite everything.
He smiled.
"That's it. That's the sound I wanted to hear."
Then, slipping back into his teasing tone:
"Alright. Now I want my filthy little pest of a sister back."
I punched his arm lightly.
He winced.
"Ow! Seriously, what happened? You lose your strength or something?"
But then his gaze shifted past me.
He squinted.
"I've never seen that one before."
"Seen what?"
I turned around. A framed photo rested between two old books.
"Me neither. Maybe Mom put it there while she was cleaning," I said.
"Maybe… yeah," he replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Wait—did you just say I was right?"
"No, I said maybe."
"Too late. You said I was right," he said with a smug grin.
"I can't believe this. I have to tell Claire immediately—she missed a historical event," I added, mockingly heading for the door.
"You'd better not," he warned, suddenly serious.
"And who's going to stop me?" I replied with a smile.
"Avery, no. If she finds out, she'll mock me for a century. Or more," he said in horror.
"You shouldn't have sworn."
"I take it back," he groaned, following me.
The door closed softly behind us.
And for the first time in a long while, the past felt a little lighter.
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Anecdote
Daniel had once sworn—two years earlier—that he would never agree with a single thing Avery said during an argument. He'd even mocked her, declaring that if such a day ever came, he'd shave his head.
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