Nadzeya can hear her own heartbeat, thundering in her ears. It’s surely not healthy for it to be that fast.

“Manon?” she whispers. Her lips feel cold. Her voice wavers. It never wavers.

“I’m sorry, Nadzeya,” Manon replies. She does not sound sorry, and the smile twists further.

“What is this?” Why is Nadzeya so cold when her insides feel like they are burning? More importantly, why is Manon not cold?

“This is…” Manon reaches for her, and her fingers are scorching hot against Nadzeya’s cheek. “The end.”

“Why?” It’s all she can think to ask, while Manon curves her hot fingers around the back of her neck. Nadzeya tries to grasp her arm, but her fingers are quickly going numb, her body heavy. She accidentally scratches Manon’s pale skin. In the low, flickering light of the single lightbulb illuminating the basement, she seems almost statuesque, with her curled hair impeccable as ever, tucked into her headband. Her pearl earrings glisten like tears, but her eyes are dry.

“It’s too much, Nadzeya. It hurts too much.”

That is why they are here. Why they are both here. They were supposed to be together. She’s not supposed to be smiling.

Slowly, Manon lowers Nadzeya to the couch as her body grows heavier and heavier with each breath. Each shuddering breath. It’s so cold. Nadzeya keeps trying to grab her, trying to pull her close like she’s supposed to be. All this time they’ve been together, Manon has been warm, but not like this. Not this overwhelming heat. This sharp, malicious blaze of her smile. It hurts too much? What does that mean?

To Nadzeya, love has always hurt, and she thought it was that way for everyone for a long time. But for Manon, she has learned, it is soft. Soothing. No hidden truths, no twisted words. Until now. Because now, Nadzeya realizes as her eyes fight to stay open, she knows that it can hurt, and she can’t take it.

“I will be fine,” Manon says, cupping Nadzeya’s cheek. “I’ve learned my lesson this time.”

This time? Nadzeya tries to speak, tries to ask if there have been others who were stupid enough to walk into this obvious web of lies as she did, but her throat is closing up. She can’t feel her legs anymore. She can’t feel anything anymore, except for the white-hot heat of Manon’s betrayal, captured in that smile. Those lovely red lips that drew her in with a bright grin across a crowded dance floor, now smiling as she takes her last breaths. The sparkling eyes that winked at her are now watching her struggle dispassionately. Was this always how it was going to end, or has Manon deluded herself into believing that she’s looking for actual love? Will she, one day, find a woman who’s good enough for her? Who is good enough for the world to see?

“Why?” Nadzeya manages to rasp, again. She gets no reply other than a gentle shushing, like she’s just trying to get to sleep after a bad dream. She’s told Manon about her nightmares, about the fears her youth instilled in her. They’ve spent hours on the phone in the middle of the night, talking about nothing, or lying in bed, hidden from the world. But what does Nadzeya really know about Manon? How much does she actually understand about her life, about her past? Why has it never seemed important until now?

None of her questions will get answers, now. And maybe that’s all there is to Manon’s smile; the knowledge that her secrets are safe. That no one will ever really know her, or know about Nadzeya. That people will just see a lovely young woman, unattached and bright, dancing and smiling through life.

Nadzeya thought she was lonely, before she met Manon, but she sees with startling clarity that no one will ever be as lonely as her. That blazing smile is proof of that. She’ll never find what she wants. She can’t.

With her final breath, Nadzeya twists her own lips into a sharp smile to mirror Manon’s. She’ll not let her have the satisfaction of the last laugh.

The last thing she sees is Manon’s mouth curling down, and then everything is cold.