The atmosphere grew tense, the silence hanging thick in the air.

"Is it Cielle?" Margaret asked, her smile warm and kind as she looked toward the doorway.

Zayn, her father, quickly called her over, urging her to meet her sister.

Cielle hesitated, her mind struggling to process the surreal reality before her. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, she stumbled into the room, panic flooding her.

The life she once knew now felt so alien and she could barely find her footing. She retreated to a corner, her tears falling in waves.

Then, there was a soft knock on the door.

It was Margaret, stepping in quietly.

She was thin, almost to the point of fragility, her pale face a stark contrast to the warmth of the room.

"Thank you, Cielle," Margaret said, her brow arched in mild surprise. Her tone was warm, almost grateful. "If it weren’t for you, I might still be abroad, undergoing treatment."

"And thank you for taking care of our parents all these years, as well as my brother and Laurent."

At that moment, Cielle felt something shift within her. The sister she had imagined wasn't quite what she had expected.

Just as she began to feel a pang of shame for her earlier impoliteness, Margaret’s next words struck her like a lightning bolt.

"But this home will always be mine, including them. They can only belong to me!"

Margaret’s friendly smile melted away, replaced by a fierce, almost predatory glare.

Cielle froze, stepping back, her heart racing. But then, gathering every ounce of courage, she squared her shoulders. "No! This is my home too! They are my family!"

"Really?" Margaret’s smile returned, but it was different, sly, calculating. A gleam of mischief flickered in her eyes.

A cold, heavy feeling settled in Cielle’s chest. Something wasn’t right.

The sharp sound of a slap shattered the tension, followed by a scream as Margaret crumpled to the floor.

"Ah—"

Cielle’s thoughts seemed to freeze at that moment, her mind blank with shock.

Before she could even process what had happened, the door was flung open.

"Margaret!"

"Margaret!"

Magnus and Laurent rushed forward, their panic evident as they bent to help the fallen Margaret.

Tears poured from Margaret’s eyes and her voice cracked with despair. "Sister, I’ve been gone for over twenty years and this is my home! Why can’t I come back?"

Her heartbroken sobs filled the room, making the air heavy with grief.

Magnus and Laurent’s faces twisted with fury, their gaze locking onto Cielle, who stood frozen, a mixture of fear and confusion on her face.

Cielle quickly waved her hand, desperate to explain, but just as the words were on the tip of her tongue, her brother’s harsh words stopped her cold.

"Cielle! Why are you so jealous? Why can’t Margaret come home?"

Her brother had never spoken to her like that before. Even in moments of frustration, he would retreat into himself, silently grappling with his emotions.

Now, those words hit her like a slap. Her throat tightened with a wave of helpless grief, especially since she had done nothing wrong.

Cielle’s eyes stung as they filled with tears and she trembled, her finger pointing toward herself. "Me? Jealous?"

But instead of an explanation, her brother’s next words pierced her even deeper.

"I think she’s just a jealous woman!"

Her heart clenched painfully as if something sharp had lodged in her chest. The ache spread through her body, a slow burn that left her feeling weak.

Cielle slowly turned to Laurent, who stood silently by the side, his gaze cold. His indifference shattered her, stripping her of any remaining strength.

Margaret, rubbing her swollen cheek, feigned innocence as she spoke, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Don’t blame her! She didn’t mean it. Anyone would be upset if their parents and family were taken away."

"Taken away?"

"Margaret! You are the true young lady of the family! No one can take what’s rightfully yours."

Laurent gently scooped Margaret into his arms, lifting her effortlessly in a protective embrace. His voice was soft, almost tender, as he spoke.

He didn’t even spare a glance at Cielle, who stood trembling beside them, consumed by the weight of her own pain.

Before leaving, Laurent and Margaret shared a few words with Cielle. "Margaret is your older sister. She’s been frail since childhood, so you must be considerate of her, alright?"

Cielle could barely process their words and before she could respond, they were gone, vanishing from her sight.

She stood there, rooted to the spot, as the realization slowly sank in. Her weak sister was nothing more than a master of manipulation, a schemer who had woven a web of lies.

Cielle didn’t blame Margaret for playing the pity card, but as she thought about how carefully Magnus and Laurent had always looked after her, a bitter smile tugged at her lips.

A few sorrowful tears escaped, slipping down her cheeks in silence.

For twenty years, their kindness to Cielle had always been tied to her usefulness.

But now that Margaret was well again, she was nothing more than a shadow in their lives.

So, Cielle made up her mind to stop engaging, to stop holding on to the pain that had tormented her.

The next day, at lunch, Cielle sat quietly across from them, her gaze falling on the sight of them laughing and enjoying each other's company. Magnus carefully served more food to Margaret while Laurent poured her coffee with a gentle smile.

Margaret’s face was a picture of contentment. Her eyes flicked toward Cielle and with a feigned warmth, she asked, "Sister, will you come with me to the hospital for a check-up this afternoon?"

Cielle hesitated, then offered a polite smile and replied, "I have other plans for this afternoon."

At that moment, their mother’s face tightened, her features sharpening with displeasure. She placed her bowl and utensils down with a deliberate clink, her gaze hardening as it locked onto Cielle. With a touch of anger in her voice, she said, "Your sister has been abroad for years and she’s unfamiliar with everything here. As her younger sister, it’s only right, both in reason and in affection, for you to accompany her to the check-up. Haven’t I taught you better than this all these years?"

Her father shifted uncomfortably, casting a brief, unsure glance at Cielle before offering a strained smile. "Cielle, just go with her."

No one had asked for her thoughts and there was no space left for refusal.

With a bitter smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she reluctantly agreed.

After the meal, Magnus and Laurent stayed close to Margaret and as they got into the car, the door slammed shut. It was only then that they realized Cielle had been left behind.

Magnus gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his brows drawn tight with irritation. "Hurry up. Margaret’s health can’t afford to be delayed."

The words hit Cielle like a blow, her hands trembling at her sides. A heavy weight seemed to press down on her chest, suffocating her, making every breath a struggle.

Margaret, leaning against the car window, waved at her with a gleam of smugness in her eyes.

"Sister, hurry up and get in!" she called.

Behind her, Laurent gently draped his coat over Cielle’s shoulders, his touch tender, yet the sight of them together made her stomach twist. They looked so effortlessly intimate, so content.

As the car moved forward, Cielle rested her forehead against the cold window, the wind ruffling her hair, yet it did nothing to ease the sharp ache in her heart.

Without warning, Magnus slammed on the brakes.

The screech of metal on metal filled the air as the cars collided, the force of the impact sending a shower of debris into the air. The vehicle jerked violently, flipping backward.

As Cielle’s vision began to fade, she forced her eyes open, her blurred gaze falling upon Magnus and Laurent, both frantically trying to pry open the car’s back door. Their hands were stained with blood, their faces twisted in panic, their voices barely a whisper as they muttered, "Margaret, Margaret, wake up!"

Summoning every ounce of strength, Cielle lifted a trembling hand, her lips parting as she weakly called out, "Laurent, Brother..."

She repeated it, over and over, until her body betrayed her and the strength drained from her, leaving her with nothing.

Tears of hopelessness spilled down her face, blurring her vision as she fixed her gaze on the sight of the three of them. Magnus held Margaret in his arms, his desperate grip only pulling her further away. They disappeared from her view, growing smaller and smaller until they were nothing but a distant memory.

It was as though Laurent suddenly understood, his face falling with guilt as he rushed toward Cielle. His eyes, wide with shock, locked onto hers as he murmured, "I'm sorry, Cielle. Margaret... she can't be hurt anymore. Wait for me..."

A tight grip seemed to close around Cielle’s heart, her breath coming in shallow gasps as tears fell freely from her eyes. The pain surged and before she could even understand it, she collapsed, her world fading into darkness.

By the time night fell, Laurent had not returned and Cielle was abandoned at the scene, forgotten like a fading shadow.

She struggled to push herself upright, her body trembling with exhaustion and pain. She gritted her teeth, her hands shaking as she pulled shards of glass from her palm. Blood poured from the cuts, the pain unbearable and she had no way of counting how many wounds she had sustained.

With trembling fingers, Cielle dialed the emergency number. After receiving stitches at the hospital, she stared at the countless injuries on her body. A deep, aching grievance bubbled up inside her, impossible to contain.

Curled up by the door, she buried her face in her hands, her sobs breaking free, each one filled with sorrow and loss.

When Cielle pushed open the door, she was met with the sound of laughter and lively conversation. Her family, usually so distant, seemed wrapped in a warm, unfamiliar harmony. Even her usually stern mother wore a gentle expression. Cielle stood frozen at the threshold, struggling to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision, her mind numb as she watched them.

Laurent and Magnus were the first to notice the sound of the door creaking open. Their eyes met in silent understanding before they set their spoon and fork down, rushing toward her.

Margaret’s instinct was to call out, but the words never left her lips. Her gaze, sharp and filled with a dangerous malice, locked onto Cielle, jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

Laurent’s touch was gentle, but the panic in his eyes was unmistakable as he reached for Cielle’s wrist. His voice, laced with concern, cracked as he said, "Cielle, are you alright? Margaret was so worried back then and didn’t have a chance to look after you."

Cielle jerked her wrist away, taking a deliberate step back. Her hollow gaze drifted past them and she shook her head, struggling to find her voice. "I’m fine," she whispered, the words empty and weak.

She walked into the room, her eyes scanning the space until they landed on a table stacked with gifts. A bitter scream tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained. Without thinking, she stormed toward the table, her hand reaching out to smash the photo frame with a crash.

Cielle collapsed to the floor, her sobs echoing through the room. Her trembling hands frantically yanked open the drawer, pulling out the property deed Magnus had given her when she turned eighteen. With a raw, guttural cry, she tore it into shreds, watching the pieces scatter like fragments of her shattered life.

Her eyes fell upon the statue in the corner, the one of the three of them in an eternal embrace. It had been her first piece of art after graduation and she could still remember the surprise and pride that had filled Magnus and Laurent’s faces when they first laid eyes on it.

In a sudden burst of anger, Cielle shot to her feet, knocking the statue off its pedestal. It hit the floor with a sickening crack, splintering into a thousand irreparable pieces.

She no longer cared for the remnants of a life that wasn’t truly hers. Without a second thought, she stormed into the closet, grabbed her custom wedding dress and viciously cut into it with a pair of scissors. The delicate fabric fell to the floor in jagged strips.

The room was littered with broken things, fragments that could never be put back together. She sank onto the bed, curling up into herself, her knees drawn tightly to her chest in a cocoon of despair. Her face was pale and hollow and the wounds on her hands had split open again, staining the sheets with fresh blood.

Cielle heard Margaret's sweet, almost innocent voice cut through the thick silence. "Brother, aren’t we going out for a late-night snack? Why not take sister along?"

But before Cielle could even process the words, Magnus’s reply came swiftly, his tone unyielding. "Next time, don’t make it so she gets jealous and makes things difficult for you."

A cold shiver ran down Cielle’s spine, her heart clenched in a tight, painful grip. It felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over her, freezing her in place.

She buried her face in the blanket, unable to contain the desperate sobs that wracked her body. Was she truly that insignificant to him?

In the midst of her breakdown, her phone suddenly buzzed, its harsh ring slicing through the air. She opened it and saw a message from Laurent. [After the accident, Margaret is really shaken up and we need to stay with her. I’m sorry, Cielle. I’ll bring you some late-night snacks when I get home.]

Tears blurred her vision as they fell onto the screen, her heart sinking deeper with every drop. Without a word, she turned the phone off, too broken to respond.