When Cecelia woke up again, she was in a hospital ward filled with the scent of disinfectant.

A nurse was changing her IV drip. "You're awake? The baby…couldn't be saved. You've suffered a lot of injuries. Rest well."

Francis hurried in, exhaustion and a hint of panic on his face. He reached for Cecelia's cold hand resting on top of the blanket, but she pulled her hand away, looking at him with empty eyes.

His hand froze in mid-air. His voice was dry. "Celia, how are you feeling? I'm sorry… I really didn't see that you were about to fall, too. It was the angle. I only saw Melody about to fall over. I panicked, I…"

Cecelia forced a twisted smile as the coldness in her chest spread, reaching her now-empty belly. Even his lies were so half-hearted… What else was left to say?

"Get some rest. I'll have the doctors do a full check-up." Francis's eyes grew even more anxious when she saw her unresponsiveness.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He instinctively glanced at the message, and his brows furrowed.

"Melody… She cut her arm, and her emotional state is pretty shaken. I'll go check on her and come back right after."

He turned and left, not even staying long enough to find out that both she and their baby were already lost in this so-called accident.

As the door closed, silence filled the room again.

Cecelia's phone screen lit up by the pillow. It was a few photos and a short video from Melody.

In the photos, Francis sat by Melody's hospital bed, gently and carefully applying ointment to a scratch on her arm, the one caused by Cecelia. In the video, the two were sleeping with each other. Even in the dim light, Francis's face and Melody's voice were clear.

Cecelia stared at the screen, her stomach turning. She threw off the blanket, yanked the IV from her hand, and blood immediately oozed out. However, she felt no pain at all.

Her body was so weak that she could barely stand, but she gritted her teeth and, using the wall for support, changed out of the hospital gown and walked out of the hospital. Every step she took was painful, but each one made her mind clearer and her resolve stronger.

The afternoon sun was blindingly bright.

She took out her phone and sent the full chain of evidence, from Francis's faked evidence to how he protected Melody, to her lawyer.

Her eyes were bright, with a touch of decisiveness. She only needed to complete one last commission for a client.

Tomorrow, she would cut all ties with Francis, take her passport, and disappear.

She forced herself back to her studio.

In the center of the huge studio stood a nearly four-meter-tall scaffolding. A precious painting using silk as the canvas was mounted there, waiting for the final varnishing.

Cecelia put on her work outfit, took a deep breath, and carefully climbed up the scaffolding, step by step, toward the platform above.

Every step pulled at her unhealed wounds, cold sweat soaking her hair.

But her eyes were steady, her fingers sure, as if the whole world had narrowed down to just her and this ancient painting.

Melody, after learning Cecelia had left the hospital, came straight to the studio.

She watched Cecelia's focused, determined figure. She saw the nearly finished painting and thought of Francis's growing distraction.

A destructive thought took hold.

Melody crept into the studio silently and methodically, her eyes fixed on the main connector beneath Cecelia's feet. A few tiny bolts were already loose. Putting on a pair of gloves, Melody quietly loosened them as far as they would go.

Cecelia's attention was completely on the tip of her brush as she held her breath, and suddenly…

Crack!

A sharp, splintering sound rang out, and the narrow platform beneath her feet abruptly collapsed at a critical support point.

"Ah!"

Cecelia lost her balance without warning as the wooden platform collapsed. Her pupils narrowed. In that split second, her only thought wasn't to protect herself, but to protect the painting.

With the last of her strength, she threw her weight against the scaffolding, pushing it away from the ancient painting.

Crash!

The scaffolding shook violently, then crashed to the ground along with Cecelia from several feet up. A scaffold slammed into her chest and shoulder as she heard her bones crack. A wave of pain swept over her.

Blood surged in her throat and spilled uncontrollably from the corner of her mouth. The loud crash brought people running, and darkness swallowed Cecelia completely.

-

It was the hospital again. It was the same blinding white lights, the same stinging smell from the disinfectant.

Cecelia struggled to open her heavy eyelids, as if surfacing from the floor of an icy ocean. Every part of her body screamed with pain. Each breath caused her tearing agony.

She rolled her eyes; through the blur, she saw Francis's worried, exhausted face and Melody crying beside him.

"Celia, are you awake? How do you feel?" Francis's voice trembled just a little.

Cecelia's gaze went past him and locked onto Melody's tearful face.

"What did you do?" Every word from Cecelia tasted like blood bubbling from inside of her.

"How can you accuse me like that?" Melody cried louder, as if she had been wronged. "I know you hate me…but I only wanted to apologize for what happened on the ship. Fran, you have to believe me…"

Tears ran down her carefully made-up face, making her look pitiful and fragile.

Francis looked at Cecelia lying on the bed, her breath unstable. Then, he looked at Melody sobbing innocently beside him.

Guilt flickered in his eyes. He hesitated, but in the end, Melody's tears washed everything else away. He pulled the trembling Melody into his arms, then spoke in a low voice to Cecelia.

"Celia, I know you're upset, but you can't just accuse Melody because you don't like her. She said she came to apologize. This was just an accident… The equipment wasn't secured properly. That's all."

Francis paused, eyes lingering on Cecelia's pale face and immobilized shoulder, his brow furrowed, voice softening a bit.

"Don't overthink things. Focus on getting better. I'll pay you triple for the painting you lost."

His words were like knives, stabbing straight into Cecelia's dying heart.

He had watched her bleed and nearly died, but still chose to protect her father's killer. All he offered was a cold "I'll pay you back."

To him, everything she believed in, her faith, and even her life, was something that could be measured in money. Meanwhile, Melody's tears would always be the only thing he cared about and worthy of protecting.

Cecelia slowly closed her eyes, refusing to look at the pair holding each other. Silence drowned out every word, shutting out this suffocating world.

Good.

Everything could…finally…

End.

-

The next morning…

Sunlight streamed through the blinds as Francis carried in a homemade breakfast, quietly pushing open the hospital room door. He had gotten up early to make Cecelia's favorite breakfast and some sides.

"Celia?" He walked softly to the bed, his voice low and gentle. "I… I brought you breakfast. It's…"

He pulled back the curtain and froze mid-sentence.

On the bed, the sheets were cold.

There was no one there.