His eyes hit me for the first time in weeks, and I froze. But it wasn’t love I saw. It was disappointment.
“Lesley… how could you? After everything she’s done for you, after she agreed to help with your treatment… this is how you treat her?”
I felt my throat tighten. Couldn’t breathe. I bent down and picked a charred scrap from the ashes, a corner of a photo. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.
“Look at this,” I said, voice breaking. “These aren’t her things. They’re mine. Our memories.”
The photo was from last winter. Fredrinn had wrapped his scarf around me, my cheeks red, my eyes bright.
For a second, he froze. “Why… why would you burn these?”
“Because they’re rotten,” I said, tears blurring my eyes. I tossed it back into the fire. “I don’t want them anymore.”
“No, Lesley! These are ours. You said we’d look at them when we were old. Why throw them away?”
I gave a tiny, broken smile. “Don’t you get it? Fredrinn… I’m dy—”
“Fredrinn… my hand. I think I burned it when the brazier fell.” My twin’s voice cut in, sharp and fake again.