# Chapter 167

# Chapter 167
Kira's POV

I was staring at my phone like it might bite me, reading the text message over and over. My mother—Vanessa—had just texted that Kim wanted to see me. My twin sister. The woman who'd been possessed by Lyra's consciousness until we separated them. The woman who'd been my husband's mistress.

My finger hovered over the screen, unsure how to respond. Part of me wanted to ignore it completely. The professional part of me knew Kim's recovery was important, but did it have to involve me personally?

"Bad news?" Dad's voice startled me. I hadn't heard his wheelchair approaching from behind.

I turned, finding him watching me with concern. He looked better today, some color returning to his face, though the silver in his hair seemed more pronounced than ever.

"It's from Vanessa," I said, showing him the message. "Kim's asking to see me."

Dad studied my face. "And you're not sure if you want to go."

"That obvious, huh?" I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I helped save her because it was the right thing to do. But actually talking to her..."

"Is much harder," he finished for me. "You have every right to keep your distance, Kira."

I chewed my lower lip, considering. "What would you do?"

He smiled gently. "I'm hardly the best person to ask about family reconciliation. But sometimes..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes facing the pain directly is the only way past it."

I nodded slowly. He was right. I'd been running from this confrontation for too long.

"I think you should at least try," Dad said softly. "You might regret it if you don't."

"Okay," I whispered, typing a quick reply: I'll be there in 30 minutes.

---

The medical center hallway felt longer than usual as I made my way to Kim's room. My heartbeat quickened with each step, my palms growing damp. God, I was nervous. What would I even say to her?

I spotted Lucas, the medical center director, reviewing charts outside Kim's door. He looked up as I approached, offering a small smile.

"Kim's latest test results came back," he said, handing me the tablet. "Her vitals are stable, neural responses normalizing."

I scanned the charts, grateful for the momentary distraction of medical data. "Any signs of Lyra's consciousness still present?"

Lucas shook his head. "None. The separation appears complete." He hesitated, taking back the tablet. "Of course, we'll continue monitoring for several months, just to be safe."

I nodded, then asked the question weighing on me. "Does she remember? Being controlled?"

"Partially," Lucas replied, his expression somber. "She describes it as 'being trapped in a nightmare she couldn't wake from.'"

My stomach tightened. Despite everything, I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone.

"Thanks, Lucas," I said, squaring my shoulders and facing the door.

He touched my arm lightly. "You did a good thing here, Kira. Remember that."

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

Kim was sitting up in bed, looking pale but alert. Her blonde hair—identical to mine—was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She'd lost weight, with dark circles under her eyes making her look fragile. Vanessa sat beside the bed, her perfectly manicured hand resting on the blanket near Kim's.

Their conversation stopped abruptly when I entered. The air in the room instantly felt thicker, harder to breathe.

"Kira," Vanessa said, straightening in her chair. "You came."

I nodded stiffly, forcing myself to step further into the room. My eyes met Kim's, and for a moment, it was like looking in a mirror—if mirrors showed your broken, vulnerable self.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, slipping into doctor mode as a shield.

Kim's voice was quiet but steady. "The headaches are less intense now. I can control my limbs better, though everything still feels weak."

I nodded, staying a safe distance from the bed. "That's normal during recovery. Your nervous system is reestablishing control."

"She hasn't been sleeping well," Vanessa interjected, looking between us anxiously. "Nightmares."

"Also expected," I replied, keeping my tone professional. "Your brain is processing trauma."

Kim kept staring at me, something uncertain in her expression. Finally, she asked the question I wasn't prepared for.

"Why did you help me?" Her voice cracked slightly. "After... everything?"

The simple question cut through my clinical distance. I felt my carefully constructed walls trembling.

"I..." I searched for words that wouldn't expose too much. "I couldn't let Lyra destroy you. No matter what happened between us."

Kim's eyes welled with tears. "I never wanted to hurt you. When Mom took me instead of you... when I chose Rocco..." She trailed off, seeming unable to continue.

Vanessa began crying silently. "I made so many selfish choices," she whispered. "I chose what was easier for me, not what was right for either of you."

The tension in the room shifted, becoming something more fragile, more honest. I felt my own throat tightening.

"I had a lot of time to think," Kim said softly. "While Lyra was in control, I could still see everything. I kept thinking about how I'd betrayed my own sister... how I never even tried to know you."

"You didn't know I existed until recently," I pointed out, surprised by the gentleness in my own voice.

"But after I found out, I still chose him. I still chose myself." Kim's honesty was disarming. "I'm sorry, Kira. I know that doesn't fix anything, but I am truly sorry."

I stood there, unsure how to respond. I'd expected defensiveness, perhaps even hostility. This vulnerability caught me off guard.

"I understand why you made your choices," I said finally. "All of you," I added, glancing at Vanessa. "I may not agree with them, but I understand them."

Vanessa dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "I should have fought harder for both of you. I was selfish, thinking only about my new life with William's family." She looked directly at me. "I want to make it up to you somehow, Kira. I know money can't replace what you lost, but—"

"I don't need your money," I interrupted, not unkindly. "I made my own way."

"I know," Vanessa said quietly. "You've become remarkable, despite everything. Because of everything, maybe."

An uncomfortable silence fell. I shifted my weight, feeling strangely hollow. This wasn't the confrontation I'd imagined. There was no satisfaction in their guilt, no triumph in their apologies.

"Does this mean..." Vanessa asked hesitantly, "Could we try to... be some kind of family?"

The question hung in the air between us. I considered it carefully before answering.

"I don't know what kind of family we can be," I said honestly. "But I'm not angry anymore. That's a start."

The relief on both their faces was visible. We weren't magically healed—too much had happened for that—but we'd taken a step toward something new.

As the conversation continued, touching on safer topics like Kim's recovery timeline, my phone buzzed. I glanced down to see Rocco's name on the screen: Need to see you. Important.

My heart skipped a beat. After everything that had happened with Andy, with the trial, with my father's recovery—what could Rocco possibly need?

"I have to go," I said, looking up at Kim and Vanessa. "But I'll come back tomorrow."

And strangely enough, I meant it.