"Why did you disobey me again? I thought we agreed—no more contact with Dranred. He's not a good man. He's the grandson of a killer, and he stole my dream!" James's voice cracked as they entered the house.
Bryan had driven them home after the confrontation at the hospital. During the ride, no one spoke. The silence was heavy—thick with things unsaid.
"There's nothing wrong with being friends with Red," Rosette said quietly. "He was once part of our family. He hasn't done anything wrong."
"Nothing wrong?" James barked. "Didn't you hear me? He's the grandson of a murderer!"
"That's not his fault," Rosette argued. "You never even let him explain his side. You just hate him because he plays basketball? You didn't even try to listen."
"Rosette, enough," Estelle interrupted, her tone weary. "James, you too. This isn't something worth fighting over."
"You're right," James said coldly. "It's not worth fighting over. So when I say you're not seeing Dranred again, you're not seeing him."
"Why are you so hard-hearted, James?"
"Because of him!" James's voice rose. "Because of his family, I grew up like this! We lost our parents because of them. You lost your sight because of them! And now you want to defend him? Who's your family, Rosette? Him—or us?"
Rosette trembled. "You know that's not what I meant."
"No?" James shot back. "Then what do you mean? Should I forgive him? Fine! I'll forgive him—if he can bring our parents back."
Rosette fell silent. The anger in her brother's voice felt like a wall she couldn't climb. She wanted peace, but how could she reach someone drowning in grief?
"Why don't you just talk to him, James?" she whispered. "You were once—"
"Once," James cut her off. "That's the past. It's gone. And I have no intention of being friends with the man who stole my dreams."
"There you go again—talking about stolen dreams," Rosette said, her voice shaking. "Why can't you try to understand Dranred? It's not easy for him either, giving up his own dreams just to fulfill yours."
Estelle and James froze, both turning sharply to her.
"What are you talking about, Rosette?" Estelle asked.
"He plays basketball because it used to be your dream, James," Rosette continued softly. "He knew you couldn't play again after your injury. He didn't want your dream to die—so he carried it for you."
"So I owe him something now?" James snapped. "Because he decided to live the life I lost?" He glared at her. "You really think that makes up for what he and his grandfather did? Even if he breaks his own body playing that game, I'll never forgive him." He grabbed his jacket. "This conversation is over. I'm going back to practice. Don't wait up."
The door slammed behind him.
Estelle sighed and turned to Rosette. "Why did you leave earlier? We were worried sick. I told you to wait for me. If I'd known this would happen, I would've brought you inside with me."
"Nothing bad happened," Rosette said quietly. "Dranred was with me. Why do you still think he's a bad person just because of his grandfather's sins?"
"You're blinded, Rosette—literally and emotionally," Estelle said, frustration rising in her tone. "Once you understand how evil that man truly was, you'll see why we can't forgive them. Don't forget—they're the reason our parents are dead. They're the reason you lost your sight. James lost his dream because of them. We're the victims here, not them."
"How long do we have to keep being victims, Estelle?" Rosette's voice broke. "It's been years. Haven't you ever thought that maybe Dranred's hurting too—"
"Whose side are you on?" Estelle snapped, cutting her off. "Us—or Dranred? You talk about him as if his feelings matter more than ours."
"That's not true," Rosette whispered.
Estelle shook her head and turned away. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'll make dinner. Go take a shower—I still have to go back to the hospital." She walked toward the kitchen, her voice cold but trembling.
Rosette said nothing. She knew pushing further would only make things worse. All she could do was wait—wait for the day her siblings' anger would soften, and they'd finally see what she saw in Dranred. She still believed, no matter how impossible it seemed, that their broken bond could be mended one day.
Estelle had left Rosette at home because she needed to return to the hospital for her evening shift. James would also be back later that night after his basketball practice. Rosette was often alone in the house anyway — both she and James had busy schedules.
She sat on her bed, listening to the replay of Dranred's latest game. His team had made it to the quarterfinals this season, and Dranred was more popular than ever, especially now that the Falcons had declared they were determined to reach the finals and take the championship title from Dranred and the Phoenix.
As Rosette listened, her phone suddenly rang — the one Dranred had given her. She realized she hadn't yet told Estelle or James about it. After what happened earlier, James would definitely lose his temper again if he found out.
She pulled out her earphones and reached into the drawer of her bedside table, feeling for the phone. When she found it, she turned it on and felt for the keypad Dranred had shown her so she could answer the call. She pressed the button and lifted the phone to her ear.
"H-hello?" Rosette's voice trembled slightly as she answered.
"Rosette," came Dranred's voice from the other end. "How are you? I was worried — did James scold you?"
Hearing his voice made Rosette smile despite herself.
"You called just to ask me that?" she teased gently.
"Well, I was worried. I thought maybe—"
"He was furious. That's to be expected," she said with a sigh. "I'm sorry about what happened. How are you, though? James punched you hard earlier. Did you get a bruise? You've got a game tomorrow — your fans might not like seeing that."
Dranred smiled faintly, touching the side of his mouth where the bruise was.
"I'm fine. It's just a small bruise. And besides, James had every right to be angry. He's only trying to protect you." He paused, hesitating. "Does he know about—"
He stopped himself, not wanting to remind her of the incident.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't think he would—"
"Don't think about it anymore," Rosette said quickly. "I'm thankful you were there. I didn't tell James what really happened; he'd only get mad again. I just want to forget it."
"I see." Dranred's voice grew quiet, almost sad. Rosette could tell he was blaming himself.
"I was actually listening to your game before you called," she said, trying to change the subject.
"My game?" he asked, surprised.
"Your first game in the quarterfinals," she said with a smile.
Dranred laughed softly. "Think you can come watch the next one live? If we win tomorrow, we'll be in the semifinals."
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "James is still upset. Maybe during the finals instead. You'll make it that far, won't you?"
"Of course," he said confidently. "With my number one fan cheering for me, how could I not?"
"If you say so," Rosette replied, smiling.