The sun rests warmly against my skin as Mia and I walk down the familiar road. The air smells faintly of dry pavement mixed with the distant aroma of roasted banana from a street vendor. It's the perfect evening, marking the end of secondary school. My heart feels lighter, full of relief and excitement for what's next.
We just finished our final exams at Hawksworth Academy, and it's over now. No more tests, no more assignments. I can finally breathe.
At least for a while
I wasn't the top student, never cared enough to be but Mia? She's always been the one everyone looked up to. Always the smartest in the class. Always the best.
I glance at her, her eyes locked on her school report, her brows furrowed. She's holding it so tightly, as if the paper might tear under the pressure. I can almost hear her thoughts—the same thing that's been racing through her mind for the past half hour.
How did I score two marks higher than her in mathematics? How did I win the award for best student in the subject?
She's always been the best. Always the top of the class.
"You fool," I tease, nudging her with my shoulder. "Admit it, I won."
She doesn't even look up. She keeps turning the report over and over, her fingers tracing the same marks like they might somehow change if she concentrates hard enough. I laugh, shaking my head.
"Does it even matter?" I ask, my voice softer now, teasing but with a gentle undercurrent. "You're the best graduating student. What's two marks in math compared to that?"
She sighs and hugs the paper to her chest, almost protectively.
"You wouldn't understand," she mutters, as if the world hinges on those two marks.
I roll my eyes, but there's a soft affection in the gesture. I don't get it, why she cares so much about these numbers. For me, passing was enough. But Mia? She's always been the one who had to be perfect.
"I don't understand why you're pouting over math," I say, nudging her again, trying to get her to lighten up. "Tobias's face when you won Best Graduating Student was an award on its own. You should've seen it. That's all anyone remembers."
She glances at me, her lips curling into a small smirk, but there's still something off about her expression. "He is my rival," she says softly, but I know she's not completely convinced. "And he's not that bad—"
"Oh, please," I scoff. "If he studied any harder, he'd start seeing further maths in his dreams."
She sighs, but I catch the glint in her eyes, that familiar determination. "I just wanted a perfect streak. That math award should've been mine."
I chuckle. Typical Mia, always striving for more, always pushing herself further. I don't get it, but I admire it.
"Relax," I say gently. "You still got the big title. That's the one everyone remembers."
She doesn't respond immediately, lost in thought. I watch her, my twin, always so driven. We're so different, but in these moments, I feel a bond that runs deeper than anything.
But me? I've never cared about any of that. I just wanted to get through.
"It's over now. Let it go," I say, nudging her again, this time a little more forcefully.
She looks up, meeting my gaze, her eyes tired, but there's a spark in them. "Yea, I guess."
We keep walking, and I feel lighter—like a weight's been lifted. I glance around, the familiar streets of Hawksworth Academy's neighborhood seeming to stretch out ahead of us, like a new chapter ready to begin.
But before I can get too lost in the thoughts of what's next, something shifts.
A horn blares—a loud, sharp warning.
Then, the screeching of tires.
My heart races. My body tenses, and everything slows down.
A car. Too close. Too fast.
I move, instinct taking over. I try to pull Mia back, to get her out of the way, but it's too late. She doesn't move in time.
The car strikes her.
One moment, she's there, standing beside me, arguing over school awards. The next, she's flying through the air.
I can't breathe.
Her eyes widen in horror as she is lifted off the ground, floating for a moment—weightless, suspended against the sky. Time seems to stretch, each second dragging on. I can see the fear in her eyes.
Then, she comes crashing down, her body slamming into the pavement with a sickening thud. The sound lingers in my mind.
My heart stops.
I can't move.
There's blood. Too much blood.
I rush to her side, my legs unsteady, my hands trembling. "Mia!" My voice is raw, desperate. I grip her hand, hoping, praying that she's just knocked out, that she'll wake up and laugh, telling me it's all just a bad dream.
Her lips part, her voice barely a whisper, a breath against the still air. "Maya…" My name, fragile and broken, slipping from her lips like a prayer.
Her grip on my hand weakens.
Her chest rises. Falls. Then stills.
The world around me falls silent.
She's gone.
And just like that, everything shifts. My world is no longer whole.