Chapter 83: Dina’s Last Wish

They had both bled enough over the past. Cora wasn’t living badly now; her mother was safe; the Watsons had helped. Maybe this was where the ledger balanced out.

“Keep the money,” she said. “Use it for treatment. You and I—we’re settled.”

Not enemies. Not friends. Clean.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Dina asked, hopeful.

A faint, unreadable smile curved Cora’s mouth. Forgiveness was too generous a word. She just refused to keep carrying the weight.

“I’m not asking for that much,” Dina said quickly. “I’m grateful you came at all.”

“I won’t hate you,” Cora said quietly. “But I can’t be your friend again. You cut too deep.”

Because they once knew each other, they couldn’t be enemies.

Because she’d been betrayed, they couldn’t be friends.

Only the most familiar kind of strangers.

Color drained from Dina’s face. She lurched up, and before Cora could stop her, dropped to her knees on the café floor.

“Get up,” Cora hissed, mortified as half the room stared. She reached to pull her up.

“If you don’t forgive me, I won’t,” Dina said, clutching Cora’s wrist. “The surgeon gave me a month. If I wait longer, there’s no point in operating. Please—let me be your friend for that month. I swear I won’t touch your life. It’s my last wish.”

Heat crawled up Cora’s neck under the audience’s gaze.

“I—fine. Get up,” she muttered. “I heard you.”

Dina rose and hugged her hard. At five-eleven in heels, she caged Cora’s smaller frame with ease.

Let it go, Cora told herself. At least for this.

In this city, who else did Dina have?

“Thank you,” Dina whispered. “No one ever fought for me like you. Freshman year, when I wanted to model and my whole family forbade it, you worked between classes to help pay my tuition. I was awful to you. I won’t be again.”

Cora’s rigid shoulders eased. She patted Dina’s back, the old muscle memory of comfort.

They took a quieter table.

“What now?” Cora asked.

“What plans does a dying woman make?” Dina’s smile tilted. “I’ll make amends where I can. I’ve been everywhere, chased everything. At the end, the place I wanted was Lindon City—because you’re here. I think about those winters before you married—sharing a twin bed for warmth, two forks in one bowl of noodles—”

Her voice broke.

Cora’s eyes stung. Before twenty-three, she’d been poor and overworked, but not empty. There had been joy.

“I still remember my first modeling check,” Dina said. “I bought two pairs of gloves. One for you, one for me. You said we’d be sisters forever.”

Tears glazed Cora’s vision. If only there were a world where “if” still mattered.

Her phone buzzed: the house manager. “Master Julian called—he won’t be home for dinner.”

“Then I won’t be either,” Cora said, glancing at Dina. “I’ll eat out with a friend.”

Dina’s eyes warmed.

They didn’t stay in the café after the scene. Dina had driven over; she took Cora to a quiet, high-end restaurant across town—good ventilation, gentle flavors, nothing that would upset a pregnant stomach. Cora noticed and, despite herself, softened.

“Wait here,” Dina said, tapping Cora’s shoulder. “There’s a place up the block that does a great caramel apple.”

Cora smiled in spite of everything. She remembered.

Birthdays used to be the only time Cora tasted anything so frivolous. They’d hide on a stairwell and split a single sticky slice.

“Eating here too?” a familiar voice said behind her.

Cora turned. Liam—casual suit, bookish grace.

“Oh—what a coincidence.” She fumbled, then remembered. “Li—”

“Liam,” he said, amused. “Fourth time we’ve crossed paths. Do I get your name this round?”

“Sorry. I’m—”

“Cora!” Dina’s voice carried as she returned, small paper bag in hand.

“Cora?” Liam repeated, blue eyes settling on the name—and on her.

“Mm. Sorry, my friend’s calling. Rain check,” Cora said quickly.

“Since fate keeps throwing us together,” Liam offered, “let me host. No pressure.”

Dina reached them, paused, and blinked. “Mr. Mayer?! What are you doing here?”

Liam’s brows knit politely. “And you are…?”