It took a few days, but María came to love Wheein’s apartment. It was small––space in Seoul was at a premium––so, she shared a bedroom with Moonbyul. It comforted her to have Moonbyul right there, especially when she kept waking up in a panic because she didn’t remember where she was.

 

Hwasa wandered the small space too, mostly staying with María, but sometimes looking in on Wheein. Her favorite thing to see, aside from María’s smile, which was coming out more and more each day, was Wheein doing things she enjoyed. She loved to watch Wheein read a book, and sometimes read with her over her shoulder. She watched Wheein dance around to music in her room, and pull at least ten different outfit options from her closet each day before deciding on what she’d wear. Hwasa hadn’t realized just how much she missed her best friend until she was back with her, but unable to say a word to her.

 

Sometimes being in that apartment hurt a part of her heart she hadn’t felt since she died.

 

It was just past two in the morning when María woke up from another nightmare. This time, she stayed as silent as possible, keeping her breathing even, so she wouldn’t wake up Moonbyul. But Hwasa was right there, looking into her eyes, when she woke up. 

 

“It was about him again.”  She didn’t ask. She didn’t have to.

 

“I heard the sirens again,” María said. “I haven’t heard them in a few weeks. I’m scared.” She tucked her knees under her chin. “What if this means I have to go back?” 

 

“What?” Hwasa sat next to her, wishing she could smooth María’s hair back and comfort her. “You’ll never have to go back. You never belonged there in the first place, María-ya.”

 

“What if being there broke me? I know Dr. Kim said I’m healing, but doctors can be wrong.” 

 

“You’re not broken. You are healing. Please…” Hwasa waited until her sister looked her in the eyes. “Please believe me.”

 

María nodded a few times and lay back down. She moved over and Hwasa lay next to her, just like they used to when they were kids, and just like they had so many times for the past few years. 

 

“It’s time,” Hwasa said.

 

At first María pretended not to hear her.

 

“You know it, too.” 

 

María squeezed her eyes shut. 

 

“Please, María-ya.”

 

All the times Hwasa had been there for her, both in life and death, played in her mind. 

 

Hwasa comforting her as she tried to adjust to life in the hospital; Hwasa taking the blame for her bad grades a few times; Hwasa tugging María close under her umbrella on a rainy day as they walked home from school instead of reprimanding her for forgetting hers once again.

 

Hwasa had always been there for her. She’d done everything she could for María. Now it was time for María to do the final thing she could do for her twin. 

 

María nodded.

 

Like so many times, in both life and death, they didn’t need words. They both knew how the other felt, right down to the ache in their bones. They knew how the other felt, right down to the hurt in their hearts.

 

***

 

It was strange to be back in the village she grew up in. Wheein was especially nervous, looking at María a few too many times as they made their way through their old neighborhood, but María was too caught up in seeing how little things had changed. It was as if time had stood still.

 

“You had the right idea getting out of here, Wheein-ah,” she said. “It’s so static.” 

 

A smile tugged at Wheein’s lips. 

 

Moonbyul looked around and around. 

 

“There are so many trees!” 

 

The other girls, even Hwasa, couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“I know you grew up in Seoul, but this is not your first time seeing a tree,” María said.

 

They grew more solem as they approached their destination. 

 

It was small, the cemetery where Hwasa was buried, and it boarded the church they attended as children. Nowadays, cremation was more common, but their mother had insisted on this, as if it was the last thing she could do for her daughter. In a way, it was, even though it was no help to Hwasa.

 

Wheein and Moonbyul looked at each other for a moment before deciding to stay back as María approached Hwasa’s grave. She slowly touched the cold stone. 

 

As cold as Hwasa’s body.

 

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. 

 

Hwasa stood behind the gravestone, looking down at her kneeling sister. 

 

“It’s real,” María whispered. 

 

“It is,” Hwasa said. 

 

María looked up at Hwasa, and Hwasa just nodded, swallowing her own tears. She managed to smile at her sister a bit, trying to ease their pain, but María just shook her head. 

 

“We have to feel it,” she said, recalling how Hwasa had encouraged her to feel even the hardest emotions while she was still in the hospital.  

 

“We have to feel it,” Hwasa echoed.

 

Hwasa knelt on the other side of the stone, and when she stood back up, she looked more real than she had for three years. Her skin had its glow back, her brown eyes were bright again. 

 

Wheein gasped. 

 

“Hwasa-ya…” Wheein’s knees buckled, and that’s when María realized what had happened.

 

Hwasa was really there. 

 

María ran to the other side of the grave and threw her arms around her sister. They both cried onto the other’s shoulder, their tears saying everything words could not. 

 

“This is all I’ve wanted,” Hwasa finally managed to say. “For three years, this is all I’ve wanted.” 

 

All María could do was nod. 

 

Hwasa finally pulled back from María, holding her at an arm’s length and looking her over, a real smile on her face. 

 

“You’ve grown so much,” she said. “You’ve grown so well.” 

 

María looked at her sister, still in her school uniform, still seventeen. 

 

“You’re going to do so well in life,” Hwasa said. “And any time you think you’re alone…” She gripped her sister’s hands. “You aren’t. We’re twins, María-ya. We’re sisters. We’ll always be together.” 

 

Hwasa, still holding her sister’s hand, turned to Moonbyul and Wheein. 

 

“Wheein-ie,” she said. “Thank you for finding our María-ya.” 

 

“Moonbyul-shi, thank you for being there for her.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “Please watch after her,” she said. “Please take care of her.”

 

All the other two girls could do was nod as they cried. 

 

Moonbyul composed herself first.
 

“I promise,” she said. “I’ll look after her. I’ll look after her well.” 

 

“Me too,” Wheein said. “For the rest of our lives.” 

 

Satisfied, Hwasa smiled and turned back to her sister. She pulled her close one last time, breathing in deeply, trying to hold onto this moment forever. 

 

She could feel herself fading. It was time. 

 

“I love you, María-ya, now and forever.”

 

“I love you, too.” María wanted to hold onto Hwasa forever. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for staying. Thank you for showing me the truth.”

 

“Anything for you,” Hwasa said. “Always and forever.” 

 

She slowly and gently let go of her sister, looking her over one last time as María cried. She smoothed back María’s hair just like she’d wanted to do so many times––offering her one last bit of comfort. 

 

“Live well, María-ya. Live for both of us, but most of all for yourself.” She cupped her sister’s face, wiping away a tear. “We’ll meet again.” She smiled through her own tears. “That’s a promise.”

 

María held out her finger to her sister, just like they had when they were kids.  “Yak-sok?” she asked, her voice shaking. 

 

“Ya-sok,” Hwasa said, her voice firm as she wrapped her pinky around María’s. 

 

When she let go, the sun was suddenly so bright. She began to walk toward it, looking more and more ethereal the further away she was. Just when she was almost out of view, she turned to look at her sister one last time.

 

Three more steps, and Hwasa was gone. 

 

María stood there for what felt like an eternity. Soon Moonbyul and Wheein were on either side of her, their arms linked through hers. 

 

They all stared up at the sun, words evading them. 

 

Instead of sadness, María felt peace. And she knew that was what her sister was feeling. 

 

She pulled Moonbyul and Wheein close to her and took a deep breath. They both looked at her and she nodded. They slowly walked away from Hwasa’s grave, going in the opposite direction Hwasa had gone.

 

María felt the sun on her back and knew it was her sister, still embracing her, forever with her, as she didn’t so much walk away, but rather as she walked forward. 

 

Forward into the freedom her sister had helped her win.

 

Forward into her own light. 

 

Forward into her new life.

 

THE ENDIt .