The accusation landed like stones hurled across the ward.
My mouth fell open. I was too shocked to form sound, let alone words.
“Are you sad?” she continued, her eyes gleaming. “Are you upset I didn’t die like you wanted?”
This. Fucking. Bitch.
I was still in the process of processing the trap I had waltzed into when my mother whirled around so fast her coat fanned out. Her hand came up, sharp and swift, aiming for my cheek.
I was still too stunned to flinch or bother moving. I just froze and braced.
But the blow never landed. Kieran’s hand shot out, clamping around my mother’s wrist midair.
His voice cut across the room, low but firm. “Margaret, don’t.”
Mother’s eyes blazed. “She tried to kill my daughter-“
“We don’t know the full story yet,” Kieran said, his tone sharp enough to discourage argument.
He turned to me, his voice softening. “Sera, what happened?”
I stared at him. At all of them.
At Celeste, who lay there like a broken doll, her lashes fluttering, her mouth curled into the faintest smirk she thought no one could see.
At my mother, who, just a couple of days ago, sat in my living room claiming I was still her daughter, claiming she would never abandon me.
Now, her eyes blazed with loathing and accusation, the hand she’d unhesitatingly raised to strike me still hovering in Kieran’s grasp.
Tell him. Tell them.
The words crowded my throat, desperate to explain. I wanted to scream it: that Celeste had lost her mind, that she’d leapt in front of that car like a fucking psycho, that this was all part of her plan to turn the entire world against me.
But my mother’s doubt had already sunk in. She was still glaring at me, still trembling with rage, still ready to strike if Kieran let go.
And suddenly I wasn’t in the hospital anymore. I was younger. Smaller. In that suffocating house, standing against the wall, holding the jagged pieces of the vase Celeste had broken in my hand as my mother’s shadow loomed.
Her disbelief, her scorn, her sharp hand-all of it merged with now. Seamless and suffocating.
They’d never believed me then. Why would they believe me now?
A bitter laugh ripped from my throat. “Explain? To you?” My voice shook with something cold. “What would be the point? You’ve already decided. You always do. Celeste is always the saint, and I’m always the bad guy”
“Sera,” Kieran said, reaching for me.
I jerked my arm away before he could hold me, but where his fingers brushed my skin seared like iron.
“No,” I snapped. “If you really believe I would do this-“
I turned my gaze to my mother. “If you truly believe I would push my own sister in front of a car, then call the police. Charge me.” I held my hands out, wrists pressed together.
Her gaze flickered for a moment before hardening again. “That’s all you have to say?”
I dropped my hands.
Their faces blurred. Margaret’s fury. Ethan’s unreadable stare. Celeste’s triumphant weakness. Kieran’s stormy silence.
I couldn’t bear it for a second longer.
“I have nothing to say. I’m not dealing with this bullshit. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer”
I turned away and walked out. My harsh breathing was a hollow echo that followed me through the ward, down the corridor, and out the sliding doors.
The world outside slapped me with cold rain.
The sky had cracked open, pouring sheets of water down the hospital steps. I gasped at its bite but didn’t slow.
My hair plastered against my cheeks, my clothes clung to me, but I couldn’t summon the will to find shelter or an umbrella.
Let it soak me. Let it wash their poison off me.
My chest ached, the numbness finally breaking into pain so sharp it felt like my ribs were splintering.
I pressed my palm against my sternum, like I could hold myself together, but the ache only deepened.
How could they believe Celeste’s lies so easily?
Was I really so monstrous in their eyes?
A sob clawed its way up my throat, but I bit it down. Not here. Not now.
I was halfway to the curb, ready to trudge home in the storm, when a hand closed around my arm.
“Sera, wait.”
I spun, heart racing, and found Ethan.
SERAPHINA’S POV
Ethan’s grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm, unyielding.
Rain streaked down his face, making his expression hard to read. For once, though, there was something softer in his eyes-hesitation, maybe even regret.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said simply.
The offer stunned me more than my mother’s slap, more than Celeste’s accusation. For a moment, I just stared at him, blinking water from my lashes.
Something twisted in my chest. Old wounds and fresh ones colliding. I wanted to tell him to let go, to leave me in the rain, to let me dissolve until there was nothing left.
I yanked my arm back. “No, thank you.” My voice came out sharper than I meant, but I didn’t soften it.
“If you’re planning another lecture, Ethan, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood. And if you try anyway, well-” I gave him a look that was equal parts warning and promise, “-I can fight back now.”
He didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked…almost amused. “I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Maya never stops praising you. Says you’re her most outstanding student. If anyone can take me down these days, it’s probably you.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the lack of sarcasm. His tone was matter-of-fact, not mocking.
Still, I folded my arms. “Then all the more reason for you to step aside. Go back to Celeste. She’s the one lying in a hospital bed, not me.”
“I know she’ll be fine,” he said without hesitation.
The certainty in his voice startled me, and I arched a brow. “You sound very sure for someone whose sister just got hit by a car.”
“I’m sure,” he said again, this time more quietly, so I had to strain to hear him over the pouring rain.
Then his gaze cut back to me, unwavering. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t believe you pushed her.”
The words hit me like a blow. Not because I needed his validation-I didn’t, not anymore-but because it had been so long since anyone in that family had believed anything I had to say.
I tried to laugh, but it came out brittle. “That’s perfect then. That undoes all the years of scorn and disdain.”
He didn’t rise to the barb. Instead, he just nodded toward his car parked at the curb. “Come on. The state you’re in-you shouldn’t go home alone.”
I swiped a wet clump of hair from my face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he said gently.
“Maya will kill me if I let you walk home in the pouring rain. And…” He hesitated, as though swallowing something difficult. “It’s my duty. As your brother.”
The word brother stuck in my ears like a burr. My brother.
When had he ever acted like one? Why was he now choosing to stay by my side instead of Celeste’s after all these years?
My instinct was to refuse, to walk into the rain and prove I didn’t need any of them.
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