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!"

After speaking, Margaret was about to lower her head in a bow, but before she could, the two men rushed forward, panic flashing in their eyes, desperate to stop her.

The air thickened with tension and chaos quickly unraveled.

"Enough!" A deep, angry voice sliced through the turmoil.

Cielle turned toward the sound, her eyes locking with Laurent. His jet-black gaze met hers, coldness simmering beneath the calm of his expression.

"Are you done causing trouble? Cielle," Laurent’s voice, laced with hostility, cut through the room, though his tone remained unnervingly composed.

Magnus seized the moment to pull Margaret to her feet, her knees still trembling. His face twisted with anger as he shot Cielle a look of disdain. "You made your sister kneel to you? You must think you’re mighty now."

"Cielle, you’ve always been so obedient, so sensible. What’s happened to you these last few days?"

"Your sister almost died. Why can’t you just get along with her instead of trying to push her away?"

Cielle’s fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms, drawing blood without her even noticing.

She forced herself to hold steady, her voice stubborn as she replied, "I didn’t! She’s just pretending, making it all up herself!"

Margaret's sobs only grew louder, her voice thick with anguish as she cried, "I didn’t! It’s because you hate me! You told me to jump off the second floor to prove myself to you!"

Her words left everyone in stunned silence.

"Cielle! I can’t believe you’d be so cruel! She’s your sister!"

Magnus, shaking with rage, lunged toward Cielle, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her against the balcony. His roar echoed in the tense air. "Why don’t you jump?"

"Yeah, easy for you to say! Why don’t you jump?"

Cielle shook her head frantically, her voice trembling as she tried to explain, "I didn’t say that!"

"Then how do you prove it? Want me to jump?"

Cielle’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at the two men in disbelief, the weight of their words sinking in. Her eyes widened, her voice shaky as she asked, "Jump? You want me to jump?"

"Margaret, if I jump, will you finally let me go?"

Exhaustion clung to her, a deep fatigue that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with the empty trust that had dissolved between them. She just wanted to escape their toxic fight.

Laurent stepped in, placing himself between them as he tried to reason with her, "Cielle, stop making a scene."

"I’m not making a scene.”

"If I jump, you’ll never have to face me again."

Before anyone could react, Cielle shoved Magnus aside. She placed her hands on the balcony railing and without a single moment’s hesitation, she jumped.

Laurent and Magnus stood frozen, their expressions empty, their eyes wide in disbelief. The world seemed to slow around them as they processed the weight of what had just happened.

Had they truly misunderstood her all along?

Panic seized them both. They rushed forward, their hands reaching for her sleeve, but they were too late.

Cielle hit the ground, her body shuddering from the sharp, brutal impact, pain coursing through her.

Magnus rushed to her side, his voice sharp with panic, as if the world around him had shattered. His eyes were filled with worry, a storm of emotion swirling within them. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Cielle, have you completely lost your mind?"

Cielle clenched her ankle, forcing herself to endure the searing pain. She lifted her gaze to meet Magnus’s, her eyes hardened with defiance. "Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to see?"

Both Magnus and Laurent stood frozen, their hearts heavy with guilt, a knot tightening painfully in their chests.

The silence that followed was deafening. Then Margaret hurried to Cielle’s side, her panic written all over her face. Tears glistened in her eyes as she helped Cielle to her feet, her voice trembling. "Sister, why would you do something so foolish? Even if you hate me, you can’t toy with your own life!"

Cielle shot her a cold glance but remained silent, the weight of her pain overshadowing everything else.

The sharp agony from her twisted ankle was too much to bear. She tried to rise, but the effort was futile. She collapsed back to the ground, helpless and defeated.