"What are you doing here again?" Peter called out as he stepped onto the baseball field.
Dranred was standing on the mound, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. Dozens of baseballs lay scattered across the grass, the net trembling with each pitch he hurled. Peter could feel the anger in every throw.
"What happened this time? Why are you doing this to yourself?" he asked, walking closer.
"She's getting married," Dranred said flatly, gripping another ball before sending it crashing into the net.
"Who?" Peter blinked. Then his expression softened. "Let me guess — your childhood sweetheart?"
Dranred didn't look at him. "She won't even talk to me. She wants nothing to do with me, all because I'm that senator's grandson."
He threw another pitch — harder, faster. "Damn it!"
Peter sighed. "You already know why she doesn't want to see you. You think playing basketball instead of—"
"Shut it." Dranred's voice cut like a blade. "You don't need to remind me."
"Then stop torturing yourself," Peter shot back, though his tone carried concern beneath the irritation. "And don't go near that blind girl again. You've seen how her family looks at you — they don't want you around."
Dranred stopped mid-throw. His shoulders stiffened.
"I'm serious," Peter continued. "Forget about them. Focus on your career. The quarterfinals are coming up. And rumor has it, you might face the Falcons again in the finals. They haven't lost since your last match — and their new coach? He used to be your friend, remember? You'd better stay sharp, or they'll crush you."
Dranred said nothing. He dropped the ball, walked past Peter, and headed toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
Peter watched him go, shaking his head with a frustrated sigh. "Stubborn superstar," he muttered. "Why am I stuck with a guy who'd rather chase ghosts than win trophies?"
"Who's there?" Rosette called softly when she felt someone watching her.
She was in the garden, the cool evening air brushing against her skin as she listened to the broadcast of Dranred's basketball game through her small radio. Since that painful conversation with her siblings, she had been hiding the fact that she still followed his matches.
Even after everything she had heard—that his grandfather might have caused her parents' deaths—Rosette couldn't bring herself to hate him. Not when she didn't truly know the whole story.
"It's me," came a familiar voice from beyond the gate.
"Red?" she asked, startled.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"What's wrong? You don't sound like yourself."
Rosette took a hesitant step toward the gate—but stopped midway. James's words echoed in her mind, and a shadow of that terrible night crept back into her memory. Her heart tightened. Even though she wasn't angry with Dranred, she couldn't seem to move closer.
Dranred noticed her hesitation. His voice softened. "It's okay. I understand. Estelle and James must have warned you to stay away from me. You can stay where you are. I shouldn't have come anyway… I don't really have the right to."
Rosette felt a lump in her throat. "Is it true then?" she asked, her voice trembling.
He didn't answer at first.
"You know," she continued quietly, "I may not be able to see, but I can always feel when people are hurting. My brother and sister—they've been carrying their pain for years, yet they still smile whenever they talk to me. Maybe it's because they think I can't see through their struggles."
There was a long silence before she gathered her courage.
"Red," she whispered, "I need to know the truth. Is it true that your grandfather had something to do with my parents' death?"
Dranred stood still on the other side of the gate. His voice finally came, low and raw:
"Would you hate me too, Rosette? Just like James and Estelle?" He gave a soft, bitter laugh. "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. Estelle… she told me she's marrying that doctor. Maybe that's what I deserve."
" You didn't answer my question," Rosette said quietly. "Is that why James hates you—and your grandfather? Because of our parents' death? Is it true that he's the reason—"
"I can't tell you anything right now," Dranred cut in, his voice heavy. "And I won't stand here defending my grandfather. But I need you to believe me—I would never do anything to betray James or any of you."
"You started playing basketball after James couldn't," Rosette continued softly. "Why? I always thought I'd see you playing baseball. You were happiest on the mound. Why did you suddenly change?"
Dranred sighed deeply. "If I told you I played because James couldn't—would you believe me?"
"You mean you gave up baseball for the game he loved most?" she asked, her brows knitting. "Why?"
"Because James, Estelle, and you… you were my family," Dranred said, his voice trembling slightly. "He was so happy when he got that invitation from his favorite team. I watched his world fall apart when he couldn't play anymore."
"And you felt responsible?" she asked gently.
"Yes," he said simply.
Rosette tilted her head. "By doing that, you only showed how guilty you felt. You don't have to speak against your grandfather—or maybe you can't, because he's still family. So instead, you chose to carry that guilt. You gave up what made you happy and lived someone else's dream just to pay for something you didn't even do. Is that it?"
Dranred fell silent. Every word she spoke struck the truth he had been running from. He had never been able to stand up to his grandfather—not then, and not now.
"I'm not angry," Rosette said after a pause. "Not because of what your grandfather did. His sins aren't yours to carry. But I am… disappointed. You were someone I looked up to, Red. Even before I understood what admiration meant, I respected you. I believed you were stronger than this. You don't have to become someone else—or live in someone else's dream."
Dranred's lips parted in surprise. He hadn't expected such words from the little girl he once used to carry on his back.
In that quiet moment, he realized she was no longer that child. She had grown into a woman—mature, wise, and far clearer in heart than either he or James.
"Are you still there?" Rosette asked when he didn't respond.
"Yes," he said softly. "I'm still here. I was just thinking how much you've changed. You're not the little Rosette I used to carry anymore." He hesitated. "Are you sure you don't hate me? That you won't end up despising me like your brother and sister?"
Rosette smiled faintly. "My eyes may be blind, Red—but my heart and mind are not."
For the first time in a long while, Dranred felt something ease inside him. Just moments ago, he had been drowning in regret over Estelle—but now, speaking with Rosette, he felt as if his heart had been awakened to something he had long forgotten: forgiveness, and hope.