"What's wrong?" Rosette asked as she visited her sister, Estelle. Bryan wasn't home—he was on duty at the hospital. It had become Rosette's routine to visit whenever her sister had a day off. But today, something felt different. Estelle was unusually quiet, withdrawn.
Usually, their visits were filled with stories—Rosette talking about her work at the charity house, Estelle sharing bits from her life at the hospital. But now, there was only silence between them, heavy and strange.
Rosette helped her tidy up the house, though her mind wasn't entirely on the task. She couldn't shake the memory of her recent conversation with Dranred—how he had mentioned that Estelle wanted to make things right between them. The thought alone frightened her. She told herself not to overthink, that Estelle and Dranred knew right from wrong. Still, the unease lingered.
Then, Estelle spoke, her voice low but steady.
"What if I tell you I'm not happy with my life? That I regret my drastic decision? What would you do?"
Rosette froze. She didn't want to believe Estelle was talking about her marriage to Bryan, but the possibility made her heart race. She couldn't bear to hear her sister admit that Dranred still filled her thoughts.
"You wouldn't understand," Estelle said, turning her gaze away.
"If you tell me," Rosette replied carefully, her fists tightening, "I'll try my best to understand."
She didn't want to hear that Estelle still longed for Dranred. But Estelle was her sister—no matter how painful this was, she had to listen.
Then came the question Rosette feared most.
"If I tell you I want Dranred back… would you give him to me?"
When Estelle turned to look at her, Rosette felt as though a knife had pierced her chest. There was no trace of jest in Estelle's eyes. Only desperation.
Why? Rosette thought. Didn't she marry Bryan because they loved each other? What is she trying to say—and why is she saying it to me?
"You're silent," Estelle murmured. "He was mine to begin with."
Rosette frowned. "What are you talking about? Dranred isn't something you can just—"
"Exactly," Estelle cut in. "That's why I'm telling you—I want him back."
Rosette clenched her fists tighter. She pitied her sister's fragile state, but anger simmered beneath her pity.
Estelle pressed on, her voice trembling.
"You're close to him. You've always been. He treats you differently—special. We only had a misunderstanding back then because of what happened in our family. But you can't deny that Dranred and I were together once… and I still love him. So please, give him back to me."
Rosette stared at her sister, torn between sympathy and fury. Estelle looked desperate, but the words she spoke cut deep—too deep for forgiveness.
It's easy for you to say that!" Rosette burst out. "If you still feel that way about Red, then why did you marry someone else?" Her fists were clenched, her voice trembling with anger. "You want to go back to him? What about Dr. Bryan? You're being selfish, Estelle!
"If you truly loved Dranred like you say you do, why didn't you fight for him? Don't use our family's problems as an excuse. You know he did nothing wrong. His grandfather's sins aren't his to bear. If you really loved him, you wouldn't have let go of his hand.
"After everything—after marrying another man—you come here saying you want him back? How selfish can you be!"
Estelle froze, stunned. It was the first time she had ever heard her sister raise her voice. Rosette was always calm, always smiling, the rational one among them. She was never blinded by their family's hatred toward Dranred's grandfather.
Realizing what she had done, Rosette covered her mouth, horrified. Estelle just sat there, staring, unable to speak.
"I'm sorry," Rosette whispered, before hurrying out of the house.
"Rosette! Wait!" Estelle called, finally recovering from the shock. She ran after her sister but by the time she reached the gate, Rosette was gone.
They had never fought before — never shouted at each other. It was the first time, and Rosette's words hit like a slap across the face. Harsh, but true. For the first time, Estelle truly saw what she'd become.
"That girl," she murmured, staring at the door. Hours had passed since Rosette left. She thought her sister would return after cooling off, but she hadn't.
"I must have really hurt her," Estelle whispered. "And she's right. What was I thinking?"
She admitted to herself that jealousy had consumed her — jealousy of Rosette's closeness with Dranred, jealousy of her sister's peace while she herself was trapped in a marriage built on avoidance, not love. She had thought marrying Bryan would be for the best, a way to move on. But now, surrounded by the silence of her empty home, she realized just how miserable she truly was.
Ever since she married Bryan, things had changed at the hospital. Her coworkers treated her differently — distant, wary. She had become an outcast, whispered about behind her back. They called her an opportunist, convinced she married the young doctor for money. Everyone knew Bryan was the chairman's son.
When Bryan was around, the other nurses smiled at her, spoke kindly. But the moment he left, their eyes turned cold. Estelle told herself she deserved it. After all, she had made this choice. Who else could she blame?
Little by little, she began to miss the warmth she once shared with Dranred — the comfort, the laughter. When she heard that Rosette had become someone special to him, she couldn't stop thinking about it. The thought that Rosette might have taken her place in Dranred's heart gnawed at her pride. That jealousy drove her to meet with Dranred, to tell him she wanted him back.
"She was right," Estelle whispered, her voice breaking. "I am selfish. When did I become like this?"
She covered her face with her hands, shame flooding her chest. Then her gaze fell on the small box beside her — the one holding the ring Dranred had once given her. She had foolishly thought that keeping it meant she could still claim a place in his life. But she knew now: he had already let her go.
Maybe it was time she did the same.
It was time to live with her decisions — not chase the past she had chosen to leave. After all, she had been the one to let go first. The only person left to blame was herself.