When Memory Fades, Love and Regret Return

Confusion clouded Cielle’s mind, unable to make sense of what was happening. But then, her father’s words hit her like a thunderclap. "Margaret! My dear daughter! Thanks to all our efforts, your illness has finally been cured!" Dear daughter? The woman lying in the hospital bed... could it be? Her mother, tears streaming down her face, added, "We’ve missed you so much, thought about you every day while you’ve been abroad all these years." Cielle instinctively covered her mouth, more in bewilderment than anything else. The Beckett Family had another daughter. Why had they kept this secret from her? In that instant, the fragile girl in the bed broke the silence with a soft, trembling voice. "Did you truly miss me? Then why did you and Dad have another daughter?" Magnus, who had remained silent until now, seemed to lose control. He rushed to explain, "There’s a reason for this! Margaret, we love you more than anyone!" "Really?" The girl’s voice was filled with doubt, her head hanging low as tears fell. But Laurent, ever gentle, reached out to stroke her hair, his voice soft but steady, "The one who holds our hearts above all others is you. Don’t you remember our childhood promise?" The girl’s cry shattered the moment. "Then why did Cielle appear?" "Because Cielle is your blood donor," Laurent said quietly. "For all these years, you’ve needed blood replacement. She was brought into existence to treat your illness." In that instant, it was as though the world exploded in Cielle’s mind, her eyes widening in shock. So, her entire existence had been nothing more than a vessel for someone else’s survival? All those years, the kindness and love shown to her had been nothing but a facade, a cover for the fact that she was merely a walking blood bank… No wonder, every year, when she went in for a routine check-up and blood transfusion, a wave of drowsiness would sweep over her and the next day, her parents would be "off on a business trip" abroad. No wonder, every time she scraped her skin, no matter how small the injury, their panic was palpable, rushing her to the hospital over a mere cut. No wonder her brother and childhood friend were always so protective, feeding her supplements, urging her to take medicine and guarding her like fragile glass. It had all been for the sake of a lost sister, using her as nothing more than a mobile blood donor… Outside the room, Cielle stumbled to a halt, unable to bear the weight of the revelation. The shock hit her with the force of a freight train and she collapsed onto the cold floor. It felt as though her heart had been torn apart, each beat sending waves of pain through her body, suffocating her. Suddenly, a deafening roar split the air and a torrential downpour unleashed, the sky itself weeping with her in a storm of thunder and lightning. As the room fell silent, all eyes turned toward the window in shock. Without a word, Cielle bolted, her heart torn, her cries echoing into the storm. The rain drenched her dress as she ran down the empty street, her emotions a hurricane of fury and sorrow, her voice carrying the weight of years of hurt. It wasn’t until she collapsed, unable to rise that the storm inside her finally began to subside. There, on the cold pavement, memories once so sweet now felt like shards of glass, cutting into her heart. The very next day, still in the clothes soaked with the previous night's anguish, she walked into the memory loss clinic, desperate for release. She opted for the quickest solution, electroshock therapy, ready to erase it all, no matter the cost. One week later, Cielle was leaving the city behind. She had decided: she would forget everyone here, never to return. The city that had once been home would be nothing more than a distant echo. When Cielle returned home, the door creaked open to reveal everyone gathered around Margaret, doting on her, serving coffee and showering her with attention. The moment Cielle stepped through the door, every eye turned toward her. For a fleeting second, she saw the surprise flicker across their faces. Had they forgotten about her now that Margaret was here? Or were they simply shocked to see her return? Cielle couldn't make sense of it, nor did she want to. She stood frozen in the doorway, lost in confusion.

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.

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.

Magnus furrowed his brow, his gaze locked on the injured Cielle, a wave of heartache crashing over him. He stepped forward, crouching down and gently pulled Cielle into his arms, his bloodshot eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. He murmured softly, "Cielle, we need to get you to the hospital. Your health comes first. Can we end this childish behavior now?" Cielle’s heart trembled, the realization sinking in that he still saw this as nothing more than a tantrum... She twisted in his grip, tears welling in her eyes, the weight of his misunderstanding crushing her. Laurent, standing off to the side, opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, unable to escape. Magnus carried Cielle in his arms, his breathing shallow, urgency propelling him forward. Laurent followed swiftly behind while Margaret reached out, calling his name, but he shook her off without a glance. Margaret stood there, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her gaze burning with resentment as she watched their retreating figures. At the hospital, Cielle sat weakly on the bed, her injury carefully bandaged, the sterile smell of the room filling the air. Laurent was running around the payment hall, his shirt damp with sweat, while Magnus listened intently to the doctor's advice in the office. The room grew quiet, leaving only Cielle and Margaret. Margaret’s gaze burned with venom, her eyes sharp as a dagger as she fixed them on Cielle. Her voice dripped with hatred as she approached, "Don’t think you’ve won just because you're pretending to be hurt. You’ve simply stolen their attention. Don’t get too cocky." Margaret, with an air of superiority, picked up a small knife and an apple from the table, peeling it with slow, deliberate movements. She glanced down at the fruit, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be alive, Cielle. You should be grateful you still have any worth in this family." Without another word, she shoved the peeled apple into Cielle’s mouth, her gesture harsh and full of intent. As Cielle struggled against the sharp sting of pain, the door to the room suddenly crashed open. A man, his face hidden beneath a baseball cap, burst in with frantic energy. Without hesitation, he pressed a knife to Margaret’s throat, dragging her backward as if she were a ragdoll. Cielle’s gaze locked with his, an uncanny sense of recognition washing over her. The man’s eyes were wild and something about his presence stirred a deep memory. It was him, the fugitive from the recent news reports. The air thickened with tension as the police, guns drawn, swarmed into the room, their movements deliberate and sharp. Margaret’s face went pale with terror, her voice trembling as she stammered, "Who... who are you?"