Chapter 6 : Splinters in the Quiet
The hospital room was too clean. Too white.
It smelled like bleach and distant flowers, like someone was trying to scrub out what had already been done.
Yeri sat motionless in the bed, her left arm in a sling, her right hand picking at the frayed edge of the blanket. Her head throbbed—dull, steady—but it wasn't the pain that hurt the most.
It was the memory.
The sharp sound of her skull hitting the edge of the stairs. The echo in her ears. The weightlessness that came right before the pain.
And Soojin's voice, cold and flat:
*"I warned you."*
**Outside the room,** Yunjun leaned against the wall with his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets.
He'd been pacing the corridor for over an hour, waiting for the doctor's update, then just… standing.
He could still see the blood. Still hear the thud.
Still feel the split-second of disbelief before terror took hold.
He had known his sister was cruel.
But not this.
Not *this.*
When he finally walked in, Yeri didn't look up.
He stayed near the door at first, not wanting to startle her.
She was staring at the floor, expression unreadable. Her cheek was pale where it wasn't bruised.
"Hey," he said gently.
She blinked. "Hey."
"I… I brought you some tea. They said it might help with the nausea."
She reached for it with her good hand, but the cup wobbled. Without thinking, he moved to help.
She flinched.
Only slightly.
But it was enough.
Yunjun froze.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, setting the cup on the tray. "My nerves are still…" She trailed off, not bothering to finish.
"You don't have to apologize."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, very quietly, she said, "She meant to hurt me."
He closed his eyes. "I know."
"I don't think she even *regretted* it."
He nodded once. "She didn't."
Yeri swallowed hard. "Is she… still there? At the house?"
"For now," he said. "But she's under watch. She's not allowed near you. I've locked her out of every part of the estate that isn't her wing."
She looked out the window. "You can't lock up someone's anger."
"No," he admitted. "But I can make sure it never touches you again."
**Later that evening,** back at the mansion, Soojin sat on the floor of her room, barefoot, her hair a tangled mess around her face.
There was a long crack in the corner of her vanity mirror—barely visible unless you were looking.
She was staring at it.
Not at herself.
At the flaw.
Something inside her was fraying.
She could feel it.
And she knew why.
Her brother, who once did everything she asked, had looked at her like she was a stranger.
All because of *that girl.*
Yeri.
The little shadow who had crept into their lives with her broken voice and quiet eyes and somehow managed to steal all the light.
Soojin's fingers curled around the edge of her dresser.
She wasn't finished. Not yet.
**Yeri came home two days later.**
It wasn't dramatic. There were no flowers, no hushed apologies waiting at the door.
Just a quiet ride in the back of a car.
The same guards who once ignored her now opened doors and didn't meet her eyes.
Yunjun was at the steps.
"I moved your things," he said. "You'll have the third floor now. You won't run into her."
Yeri looked at him. "And what about you?"
He hesitated. "I'll be wherever you need me to be."
Her lips twitched. It wasn't a smile. But it was close.
The new room was soft and warm—nothing like the basement she'd spent months in. The bed was too big. The pillows smelled like lavender.
She stood in the center of it all, feeling like she didn't belong.
She wasn't used to clean spaces. Or windows that opened. Or silence that didn't feel dangerous.
Still, she unpacked what little she had. One book. A sweater. The old photo someone had returned to her weeks ago.
She held it for a moment. Her parents, before they died. Her hand brushed over their faces.
"You wouldn't recognize me now," she whispered.
That night, Yunjun knocked once before letting himself in.
He held out a cup. "Still chamomile."
She took it.
He didn't sit down, just leaned against the frame of the balcony door.
"I haven't asked you how you're really doing," he said. "I didn't want to make you answer something you weren't ready for."
Yeri took a sip, then rested the cup against her chest. "I'm tired. And angry. And kind of… numb."
He nodded. "That's fair."
A pause.
She looked at him. "Why didn't you stop her sooner?"
He didn't look away. "Because I kept telling myself she wasn't that bad. That maybe if I gave her enough rope, she'd pull herself out of whatever darkness she was stuck in."
"And she used that rope to hang someone else."
His voice cracked. "Yeah."
Yeri didn't speak for a long time. Then, in a voice as soft as snowfall:
"I don't want revenge. I just want a life that's *mine.*"
"You'll have it."
She looked at him. "Do you really believe that?"
He stepped closer. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."
**Somewhere in the quiet of the house**, Soojin walked the hallway barefoot, the carpet muffling her steps.
Her fingers brushed against the wall as she passed Yeri's old room.
Empty. Cold. Forgotten.
She stood there for a moment.
Then walked on.
Her reflection followed in the glass of the windows. Always slightly behind.
Always waiting.
To be continued....
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