When Memory Fades, Love and Regret Return

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.