The Girl He Never Saw

"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding."

The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot.

Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe.

Sangaria City, Arlencia.

"Sasha, Mira's already engaged to Vincent. Stop messing with it. We booked your flight. You'll stay overseas until after the wedding."

The whole 'this is for your own good' routine was back. That's when Sasha Clarke realized—she'd been given a second shot.

Right to the day her parents forced her out of the country and made her give up Vincent Scythe.

Last time, she hadn't listened. She'd begged Vincent, tried to explain he'd fallen for her, not Mira. Pleaded with her parents to stop the act, to make Mira quit stealing her place.

All it did was make Vincent hate her more.

Even when she was bleeding out after the crash, he told the nurse on the phone, cold as ice, "What trick is she pulling now? Tell her to stop ruining my wedding with Mira."

She died on the operating table, eyes locked on the screen—Vincent sliding a ring onto Mira's finger, the whole world cheering them on.

But now? With a second shot at life? She wasn't crawling back.

"Fine. I'll go." She took the ticket, voice flat and calm—too calm.

Donald and Diana froze.

"You're really leaving?" Diana asked. "You're not planning something to ruin Mira, are you?!"

'Ruin?' What a joke.

Vincent had been hers.

They were the ones who handed him to Mira.

Over twenty years ago, when Mira was diagnosed with leukemia, Donald and Diana didn't blink—they had another kid. That kid was her.

Her cord blood saved Mira's life. From that moment on, she lived in Mira's shadow.

Mira was the sick one, the fragile one, so all the love went to her.

Sasha got used to giving things up—bedrooms, friends, competition spots.

But there was one thing she wouldn't let go of.

The boy she'd fallen for the second she saw him—Vincent Scythe, heir to the Scythe family.

He used to be untouchable, a golden boy in the clouds. Then a car crash after his birthday banquet left him blind and stashed away in some far-off estate.

Sasha never told anyone. She swiped the keys and climbed the wall every day after school just to be with him.

"I'll come every day."

In the dark, her voice—soft and clear—became the only thing holding Vincent together.

She never told him her real name. Just traced the letters in his palm: "Call me Twinkie."

He brushed her hair like it was glass, played piano for her, held her frozen hands against his chest when storms rolled in.

The night before his surgery, he kissed her fingertips.

"When my eyes are healed," he whispered, "you'll be the first person I see.