"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.

Late into the night, memories of the lock of love she had once hung with Laurent played through Cielle's mind like an uninvited guest. She tossed and turned in bed, restlessness consuming her. Unable to shake the thoughts, she threw on some clothes, grabbed her keys and drove alone to the church.

Her body burned with fever and with each shaky step, she climbed to the top, her legs weak but determined. Standing before the lock of love, she gently ran her fingers over it, the weight of memories pressing against her chest. Without hesitation, she removed it, the metal cold and final in her hands.

Before leaving, her gaze lingered on the wish ribbons tied to the prayer tree. Magnus had hung them himself, his own blood used to write blessings for Cielle, his sincerity carved into every word.

Her heart squeezed as she tore the ribbon from the tree, tears blurring her vision. Without a second thought, she set it alight and watched it burn, the flames dancing and consuming the last of her hope.

The sequence of her actions was swift and decisive. As the ribbon turned to ash, so too did any lingering expectation in Cielle’s heart.

As the fire consumed the ribbon, a crushing weight settled on Cielle's head as if the world itself had placed its burden upon her. Her vision blurred and the edges of her surroundings seemed to slip away, fading into a haze.

Before she knew it, she collapsed backward, darkness swallowing her whole.

When she awoke, the soft light of dawn filtered through the windows. Cielle slowly opened her eyes, only to be met with the concerned faces of several monks watching over her.

"Benefactor, after a long night, your fever has finally subsided.”

Cielle shifted on the wooden bed in the meditation room, gratitude flooding her heart. She sat up and bowed, her movements a silent thank you to the priests who had cared for her.

The sorrow in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. With quiet kindness, one of the priests suggested, "Benefactor, you may find peace on the second floor of the back church. The view there is calm and it may help lighten the burden on your heart."

Cielle didn’t immediately head home. Instead, she walked slowly to the back church, her heart heavy with unspoken grief.

But when she arrived, her heart sank. There, in front of her, stood the last people she ever wanted to see, the three of them.

Margaret stood with a selfie stick in hand, Magnus and Laurent by her side, each of them shielding her as they posed for a group photo against the breathtaking scenery.

Cielle instinctively turned to leave, but then a voice called out to her.

"Sister!"

"Sister! You really understand me! How did you know I wanted to come here? We truly are good sisters."

The three of them made their way toward Cielle and with each step they took, she found herself retreating further.

Margaret, without missing a beat, wrapped her arms around Cielle’s, her smile sweet and almost mocking as she added, "Let’s take a photo together."

Before Cielle could protest, she was dragged toward the balcony.

"Sister, you really are obedient. You know, this family no longer belongs to you. You ran away in the middle of the night. Honestly, I wish you'd never come back," Margaret whispered in her ear, the words dripping with venom.

Cielle, her anger rising like a storm, shoved her away, her voice sharp as a dagger. "Why should I leave? I’m as much a daughter of this family as you are! If anyone should leave, it’s you! What, should I be your blood bag? Was I born just to be a blood bag?"

The force of her words left the others in stunned silence.

Margaret was the first to react. Her gaze flickered between Magnus and Laurent, her mouth falling open as her eyes filled with tears. She stared at Cielle, her anger still burning, her fury as palpable as the tears in Margaret's eyes.

And then, without warning, Margaret’s knees buckled.

With a sickening crash, she collapsed to the ground.

"Margaret!"

"Margaret!"

Magnus and Laurent’s anxious voices echoed as they rushed toward her.

But Margaret, with desperation in her eyes, crawled toward Cielle, clutching at the hem of her clothes. Her sobs broke the silence, her voice trembling with plea.

"Sister, please, let me stay in the family... stay with Mom and Dad... with everyone. Please?"

"It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have been sick, shouldn’t have taken your blood. I was wrong, Cielle. I was wrong. Please... let me stay with the family, please, I beg you!"

Tears streaked down her face as she looked up at Cielle, pleading with her eyes.

"Sister! Don’t send me away! I’ll bow to you... please!"