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Rhea's POV
I stepped out of Mrs. Sherman's apartment, her words echoing like a whisper I couldn't shake. "Your darkness, Rhea—it's in your genes."
The night air was cool, brushing against my skin like it knew what was beneath it—something ugly, something waiting.
My heart was still pounding, the kind of nervous rhythm that made you aware of every heartbeat, every breath. I felt small, terrified, like someone who's been hiding a monster in their chest since birth.
What if I lost control?
What if my intrusive thoughts—the ones I'd buried for years—took over again?
I shoved my hands into my pockets and felt the sting of my nails digging into my palms. Fresh little crescent moons were etched there, raw reminders of my struggle. Tiny marks of restraint. My proof that I was still winning—barely.
Back in grad school, it had started quietly.
A spark.
An urge.
A sudden, violent image flickering behind my eyes.
Sometimes I wanted to hurt. To burn. To destroy.
It wasn't that I wanted to do those things… it was that my mind wanted me to. The thoughts would whisper, crawl under my skin, until I could barely breathe. That was when I found Mrs. Sherman. She had a way of making it all make sense—like I wasn't a monster, just someone trying to tame one.
I inhaled deeply, grounding myself. One breath in, two out.
But the silence in my head didn't last.
When I got to the street where I'd parked my bike, I froze. Someone was standing beside it, tall and still, like a shadow waiting for me.
"I had a feeling you'd come back," a familiar voice said. "Didn't expect it to be this late, though."
"Aries?" I asked, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be.
He turned his head slightly, the moon catching on his jawline. "In the flesh." His tone was dry, indifferent, but that voice carried weight—like smoke laced with storm.
"What are you doing here?"
He sat on my bike, one leg lazily propped. "Making sure your ride doesn't get stolen," he said. "I'm a fan of bikes. Would've been a shame if someone took this beauty while you were off… doing whatever you were doing."
"This bike's fine. I have the keys." I dangled them in front of him.
He smirked, a ghost of one. "Yeah, because keys always stop thieves."
I rolled my eyes. "Why'd you leave campus?"
"Got bored."
"How'd you know I'd be here?"
"I didn't." He shrugged. "Was just about to leave."
My gaze drifted to his wrist, the white bandage stark against his skin. "Your arm…"
He followed my eyes. "What about it?"
"Rina did that, didn't she?"
He chuckled. "Oh, this? Nah. I got mad at a certain someone and decided the wall looked punchable."
"That's not what I meant. I meant the bandage—she tied it, didn't she?"
He tilted his head, studying me. "Yeah. She did. How'd you know? Twin telepathy?"
I almost laughed. "Haha, no. It's the way she tied it—with bunny ears. She used to do that for me when we were kids." I lifted my palms, showing him the faint half-moons. "I used to hurt myself too. Dig my nails in when I got overwhelmed. She'd clean it and tie it up that way every single time."
He went quiet for a moment, eyes flicking to my hands. Then, softly—"You self-harm?"
The words made my throat tighten. "I—"
"I do too," he said before I could answer. He uncurled his fingers and showed me his palm. Little scars, pale and crescent-shaped, marked the flesh.
I blinked, stunned. "They're just like mine."
"Guess we've both got matching moons," he said, half a smile on his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes.
We walked toward a bench nearby. I sat, and he leaned against a lamppost, his shadow stretching across the pavement.
"Why do you do it?" I asked quietly.
He looked down, voice flat. "Abusive father." A short pause. "You?"
My chest tightened. How was I supposed to say because I'm afraid of the monster in my blood?
Because I fight voices that whisper about fire and knives and chaos?
I looked away. "It's… complicated."
"You can't tell me yours, but I told you mine?" he said. "Trust goes both ways, Rhea."
He began to unwrap his bandage, staring at his knuckles. "It's funny," he murmured, "how you notice the tiniest things about people. But no one seems to notice you."
Then he looked up, eyes sharp and unreadable. "You see every wound, Rhea. Even the ones that aren't yours. That's rare."
Before I could respond, he pushed off the lamppost and walked toward his motorcycle. "Bye, Rhea."
The engine roared, slicing through the silence, and he was gone.
I stayed there, frozen, his words looping in my head. Trust goes both ways.
He was right. I couldn't keep this to myself. Not anymore. I needed to tell someone—someone who could pull me back when I slipped. Aries couldn't be that person. Ava could.
I got on my bike and sped through the dark streets, the wind against my face almost violent. I didn't even know what I'd say when I got there. Only that I needed her to know. Before it was too late.
Rina's POV
Home.
I hated that word.
The moment I stepped in, it felt like I was walking into a memory I didn't want to relive. The air was heavy, the walls too quiet—like they were waiting for another argument.
"Rina," Mom called softly.
"Yes, Mom?"
"How was school?"
"Fine." The word dropped like stone.
Dad entered the room, his arm wrapping around Mom's waist as if to calm her. "Where's your sister?"
I rolled my eyes. "No idea. Rhea's a big girl, she can handle herself."
"Rina, don't talk to your mother like that," Dad said. "Your anger is with me, not her."
"Oh, I wonder how you'll scold me when you're halfway across the world," I muttered, walking off.
I heard Mom sigh behind me. "Thomas, they're both slipping away from us."
"I know, mi amor," Dad said.
When Rhea came home minutes later, she was smiling—too brightly. Her shirt was missing, only a jacket draped loosely around her shoulders.
"What happened to your shirt?" Mom asked, rushing over.
"Someone spilled milkshake on me," Rhea said, trying to sound casual.
"Why didn't you get a new one?" Dad asked.
"It's fine, Dad. I have others."
He smiled proudly. Of course he did. Rhea could murder someone and he'd still find a reason to praise her.
She went upstairs and knocked on my door a few minutes later.
"Go away!" I yelled.
"Rina." Her voice was soft.
I rolled my eyes and turned to the mirror, brushing my hair. "What a bold move you pulled today," I said, meeting her gaze in the reflection. "I thought we had an agreement, sister."
"Rina, I have to tell you something—"
"—your little stunt at the student union," I cut in. "Who were you trying to impress? Damian? Aries?"
Her jaw tightened. "This isn't about that."
"Oh please. Everything's about that with you." I stood, walking closer. "Tell me, Rhea—was it him?"
"Rina, please—"
"What's your goal, huh? Trying to seduce both of them?"
Her voice broke—louder, rawer. "For the love of God, Rina, not everything's about guys! I'm trying to tell you something serious, and all you care about is your stupid reputation!"
The room fell silent. I stared at her, stunned. Rhea had never raised her voice to me before.
Her hands were trembling, and there was something wild in her eyes. Something… dark.
"You know what?" she whispered. "Your friend threw that milkshake at me while you stood there watching. What did you want me to do, just sit there covered in it? You want me to look like the trash you already think I am?"
"Yes," I said coldly. "Would that be so hard?"
Her face twisted. Then—"Fuck you," she spat. She ripped her glasses off and hurled them at me. "Take your damn glasses back!"
They clattered against the floor. For a heartbeat, all I heard was my pulse.
"How dare you," I hissed. "Those are vintage—"
But the door slammed before I could finish.
I stood there shaking, a cocktail of anger and something else—fear.
When I looked into Rhea's eyes just now, for the first time in my life, I saw it.
The darkness.
The thing she hides behind her perfect smile.
She wasn't my sweet sister anymore. She was something else entirely.
Later that night, I was still pacing when my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
Anonymous Sender: Hi Rina.
Rina: Hello?
A.S: You looked so good today.
Rina: Thanks. Who's this?
A.S: A secret admirer.
My heart leapt. Ares? It had to be. I smiled, flipping my hair.
Rina: I have tons of admirers. What makes you special?
A.S: Because what I feel for you isn't like the others.
I sank onto my bed, grinning.
A.S: I love you, Rina.
Rina: Why?
A.S: Because you're Rina. None are hotter, fiercer, or more elegant.
"Clock that," I whispered, smirking at my reflection. Of course it was Ares. Who else could it be?
A knock interrupted my fantasy. I rolled my eyes. "Get lost, psycho!"
The door creaked open. "It's just me," Dad said softly.
"Oh. Dad."
He looked tired, older than he did that morning. "Mijá, I know you're angry. I don't want to leave either."
"Then don't," I said. "I need my dad more than your stupid company does."
"It's not just the company," he sighed. "There are people who depend on me."
"Whatever." I turned back to my phone, checking for new messages. None.
"Do you know what project we're working on right now?" he asked.
"I don't care."
"But it's something you'd love." He showed me his phone, sketches of a fashion board.
My sketches.
I froze. "Wait—is that—?"
"Your design. The fashion board approved it. I made sure they did."
"Daddy!" I threw my arms around him, all my bitterness evaporating in an instant. "I love you!"
He smiled, smoothing my hair. "I love you too, mija."
But outside Rina's door, the hallway was dark. And behind the other door, Rhea's room, something stirred quietly in the silence.
Her palms bled again, crescent moons reopening.
And in her reflection, her golden eyes gleamed like two dying suns.
The monster inside her whispered, soft and sweet.
'You can only hide me for so long.'