It started like all their nights did lately—sharp words, bruised silences, and something bubbling just beneath the surface.
Mira knocked on Maya's door, already dressed in black jeans and a crop top, a glimmer of defiance in her eyes. "There's a beach bonfire tonight. Kezi coming. We're going."
Maya glanced up from her journal, blinking. "Tonight? Why?"
Mira shrugged. "Because I'm tired of feeling like we're suffocating in this house."
Maya looked back down at the pages. "I don't think it's a good idea."
Mira rolled her eyes. "Of course you don't. You never do anything unless it's safe, quiet, moral."
"That's not true."
Mira stepped closer. "Then prove it. Come with me. One night. One choice that isn't about protecting everyone else."
Maya hesitated. Something in her softened. "Only if we stay together the whole time."
Mira smirked. "Scared I'll run off with the guy you secretly like?"
Maya's face froze.
Mira blinked. "Wait. You… you do like Jay, don't you?"
Maya didn't answer. Just quietly stood and grabbed her jacket.
The beach buzzed with life. Music, firelight, strangers laughing under the open sky. Kezi met them near the dunes, grinning like a devil with secrets.
Jay was there too.
Of course.
Maya saw him before Mira did—standing near the edge of the fire, hands in his pockets, watching the waves like he wanted to drown a thousand unspoken words.
"Let's not do this," Maya whispered.
But Mira was already walking toward him.
They played games. Truth or dare. A drink passed from hand to hand. Kezi dared a stranger to dance on the car roof. Mira dared Jay to say who he thought about at night.
Jay had looked at Maya when he said nothing.
And that said everything.
The ride home was suffocating.
Mira's hands gripped the wheel tighter than necessary. Her face, lit by street lamps, was pale and drawn.
"You love him," she said suddenly.
Maya looked at her. "It's not like that."
"Don't lie to me. Not tonight."
"I didn't ask for this."
"But you never push it away either."
Maya's voice cracked. "You think I want to hurt you?"
"I think you've always been the good one. The safe one. And now, you're the one he looks at like that."
The silence after that was heavy.
The road curves ahead. Trees blurred in the dark.
Then—
A deer. No. A flash of silver fur.
Too fast.
Mira swerved.
Screams.
Metal. Glass. Screeching.
A sickening crunch.
Then stillness.
And dark.
When Mira opened her eyes, the airbag had deployed. Smoke hissed from the crumpled hood.
Her hand was bleeding. Her mouth tasted metal.
"Maya?"
No answer.
"MAYA!"
She clawed at her seatbelt, ripped it off, and reached for the passenger side.
Maya's head was slumped against the window. Blood trickled down her temple.
"No. No no no—"
Mira sobbed, pulling at the door, crawling over glass, cradling her sister.
"Maya, wake up. Please—wake up."
Maya stirred faintly, her eyes fluttering.
"You're okay," Mira whispered. "You're okay."
Maya gave the smallest smile. "You always... break the rules."
"Don't joke right now. Please. Stay with me."
Maya reached weakly for her necklace—the small silver chain she never removed.
"Have you... ever seen me take this off?" she whispered.
Mira shook her head through tears. "No."
"Then... take it."
Maya placed it in her hand. Her fingers were already cold.
"Maya, no. Please—"
But Maya's eyes were slipping shut.
"Forgive me," Mira cried, pressing her forehead to her sister's.
But Maya's hand slipped from hers.
And her chest stopped rising.
Mira's scream echoed into the night.
Later, there were sirens. Red lights. Paramedics prying doors open.
But Maya never moved again.
And Mira never let go of the necklace.