Rewritten fate: The Duchess's last wish

Because of the endless workload, I hadn't been able to make time for my boyfriend. It had been almost a month since we last met. I was at my desk, immersed in my tasks, when suddenly,the messages came one after another, each one hitting harder than the last:

[Hana, let's end this.]

[I can't do this anymore. I've waited, but you're never here—not for me, not for us.]

[I've met someone else. She makes me feel seen, valued, loved—everything you never could.]

[Here's my last advice to you: stop living so pathetically.Stop being a shadow in your own life.]

[Learn to live for yourself, not as a servant to others.]

[Maybe no one ever told you, but you are broken in ways you don't even see. You don't know how to love because you've never been loved.]

[And yet, despite everything, I loved you. I really did. But I can't keep loving someone who doesn't know how to love back.]

I stared at the screen, my chest hollow. His words were cruel, but perhaps they weren't wrong. I didn't feel anger or heartbreak—only an aching emptiness.Maybe I never loved him. Maybe I didn't even know how.

I typed back a single word: "Okay."

But as I sat there, the tears came, unbidden and relentless. I didn't feel sadness, yet my body betrayed me. The tears felt cheap, like I wasn't even worthy of the pain.

I buried my face in my hands, whispering to no one, "I'm so tired. So sick of everything. I just want it all to stop."

---

It was well past midnight when I returned home. The weight of the day pressed down on me, but one small spark of excitement flickered in my chest. I tossed my bag onto the table, collapsed onto the bed, and opened my phone.

The final chapter of the web novel I'd been reading was out. It wasn't a popular story, nor one I particularly liked. A tragic, R-rated BL tale—frustrating and bleak. Yet, something about it compelled me to keep reading.

With a small flutter of anticipation, I tapped the chapter.

What? Everyone was dead? The world had been destroyed?

I stared at the screen, my heart sinking. "What a pathetic story," I muttered, throwing my phone aside.

The ending left a bitter taste in my mouth, but there was nothing more to do. I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly.

Then my phone buzzed.

The sound was sharp, pulling me back to reality. Groaning, I reached for it. A call. My father.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice heavy with exhaustion.

His tone was grave, each word cutting through the silence. "Hana, your mother… she's passed away. The funeral is happening now. You need to come."

The words should have hurt, but they didn't. I felt… nothing. No tears, no grief—just an empty stillness.

I grabbed my bag, changed into a simple black dress, and left. The journey to the funeral home took 30 minutes, yet I barely noticed the passing time.

The room was filled with strangers, murmuring quietly among themselves. I slipped inside, feeling like an outsider.

My eyes found my younger sister first. She stood stiffly, her face a mask of indifference. Then, in the corner, I saw her. My mother.

She was standing there, dressed in black like everyone else. My breath caught in my throat. My steps faltered. For a moment, I thought this was some cruel prank.

"Mom?" I whispered, my voice shaking.

My father approached, his face lined with grief—or perhaps guilt.

"Who… who died?" I asked, the words barely audible.

He sighed, his voice heavy. "Your mother."

I blinked, confused, my gaze shifting to the framed photo at the front of the room. It was my mother's face.

"Then… who is she?" I asked, pointing to the woman in the corner.

"She's the mother who raised you," my father said quietly. "Your biological mother left us 18 years ago. I didn't want you to grow up without a mother, so I asked her twin sister to take her place. She already had a daughter, who became your younger sister, and we raised you together as a family."

His words hit me like shards of glass, each one cutting deeper than the last. My knees felt weak as I moved toward my mother's photo.

"Mom," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "Was I so unlovable that you had to leave me? Was I so easy to abandon?"

I broke down, clutching my chest as the pain became too much. My fists pounded against my heart, as if trying to stop the ache. "Why, Mom? Why did you abandon me?"

Through my tears, I noticed a boy standing nearby. He was young, dressed in a high school uniform, and tears stained his cheeks. Slowly, he stepped forward.

"She didn't leave because she wanted to," he said softly. "Mom left because your father betrayed her. He cheated on her with her own twin sister. She wanted to take you with her, but he wouldn't let her. She was pregnant when she left… with me."

His voice cracked, but he continued, "She never stopped loving you. She cried for you every day. Even at the end, your name was the last thing she spoke."

I stood there, frozen, my heart shattering into pieces too small to gather. I looked at my father. His face was calm, as if he believed what he'd done was justified.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could do was run.

I stumbled out into the cold night, the air biting against my skin. The tears wouldn't stop, the pain wouldn't fade.

As I stumbled into the cold night, the weight of everything crushed me, leaving me numb. My legs carried me aimlessly, my mind blank except for the relentless ache in my chest.

Then I heard it—a screeching sound, sharp and piercing.

I turned my head slowly and saw a car hurtling toward me. Its headlights blinded me, but I didn't move. My feet remained planted. A strange calmness settled over me, like a quiet surrender.

I let it hit me.

The impact was brutal. I felt my body collide with the ground, the sharp pain spreading like fire. But even as my younger brother—whom I had only met today—called my name, his voice desperate and broken.

Lying on the cold pavement, my thoughts drifted, detached from the agony in my body. "I wonder… when did the world turn its back on me, leaving me alone to carry the weight of its indifference?"

Images of my life flashed before me like fleeting dreams. Faces, places, and memories I thought I'd forgotten danced in the darkness. Then I saw her—my mother, her beautiful smile glowing like a beacon in the void.

For the first time in so long, I felt warmth.

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye as I closed them for what I thought would be the last time.