A Canvas Stained with Tears

His grip trembled as he turned back to me, his body wracked with sobs. He cradled me in his arms, his tears wetting my hair. "I'm so sorry, Nindy... I'm so sorry..."

Chris was so overwhelmed by the entire ordeal that he fainted. Watching their impeccable performance yet again, I simply lowered my gaze, my heart devoid of any emotion.

When I woke up, I felt a hand tightly holding mine. Chris was resting his head on the hospital bed, his face weary from exhaustion. At the faintest movement of my fingers, he jolted awake, his expression instantly lighting up with relief and joy.

"Nindy, you're finally awake! How do you feel? Where does it hurt? I'll call the doctor right away!"

His concern, though seemingly genuine, only made me sick to my stomach. After destroying my body and shattering my spirit, he now had the audacity to feign affection? Who was he trying to convince?

I forced a weak smile and whispered, "You've stayed up all night. It must have been exhausting for you. You should go back and rest. The nurses will take care of me."

He hesitated, still playing his role. "But the nurses might be careless. What if they hurt you?"

Your presence is what hurts me the most.

"Go home, Chris. I'm fine."

Faced with my unwavering insistence, he had no choice but to leave, albeit reluctantly.

An hour later, my phone buzzed. A message from Bella.

I opened it to find a photo and a video. The timestamp confirmed that while I was undergoing surgery, she was on stage, accepting an award that should have been mine.

In the picture, my brother and Chris stood by her side, both beaming as they held up the championship trophy together. They looked like a perfect little family, basking in their victory—while I, the true outsider, was left behind, discarded and forgotten.

My breath hitched. Just minutes earlier, Chris had been at my bedside, whispering sweet nothings of concern. Yet here he was, celebrating in a grand hotel, laughing and drinking as if nothing had happened.

I clicked on the video. A nine-layer pink strawberry cake stood in the center of the room—Bella’s favorite color and fruit and the one I despised the most. She giggled as she smeared frosting onto their faces. Instead of getting angry, they chuckled fondly, affectionately calling her their "little troublemaker."

What caught my eye next made my fingers tighten around the phone. Chris wore a ring on his hand. A ring that was identical to the one on Bella’s finger.

She hadn’t written a single word to provoke me, yet her message was clear as day. Nothing hurts more than watching someone steal what was once yours.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and was about to lock my phone when another notification appeared in the small three-person group chat I shared with my brother and Chris.

[Ferry: "Chris, you must treat Bella well. Back when I lost everything, it was Bella who jumped into the sea to save me. Whatever she wants, even if it’s the stars in the sky, I will make sure she has them."]

A second later, the message was withdrawn. My fingers trembled as I clutched the phone, my chest tightening with an unbearable ache. A tidal wave of pain surged forward, threatening to drown me in its depths.

That day, the person who saved my brother had been me. When did the truth become her Bella’s?

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, soaking the hospital quilt. I had lost everything—my dignity, my reputation, my dreams. And now, even my past was being rewritten, stolen by the very people I had once loved. In my darkest despair, a thought surfaced. A phone call from a month ago.

My mentor, Professor Karl, had once offered me a place in a top-secret national project for painting artifact restoration. Back then, I had hesitated. Now, there was nothing left for me here.

With a deep breath, I dialed his number.

"Professor Karl," I said, my voice steady. "I’ve decided to accept your offer. I’ll join the project."

His delight was evident. "Truly? That’s wonderful news! Your talent is unparalleled, Nindy. But I must remind you—this is a top-secret project. Once you enter, all traces of your existence will be erased from the world. Are you certain you want this?"

"I’m certain. I’ll book my flight and be there in three days."

Just as I ended the call, my brother entered the room, his expression unreadable. "I thought I heard you mention a plane ticket. Where are you going?"\