Aftermath

She rose from the bed slowly, her bare feet brushing the cold marble floor. The chandelier above caught the light on her skin as she crossed the room — weak, quiet. The folds of her dress trailed behind her like heavy memories.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the dresser drawer. She wasn’t searching for anything.

She just needed to move.

Then she looked up.

The mirror stared back at her — and she barely recognized herself.

Tangled brown hair. Dirt under her nails. Tear-streaked cheeks. Eyes still wide with fear.

She blinked, and more tears fell.

Her breath hitched as she sank to the floor, back pressed against the dresser. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if trying to hold the pieces in place.

And then—

She broke.

The sobs came soft, almost childlike — the kind that didn’t echo in big rooms but clung close to the skin. She pressed her face into her knees, her body trembling as she rocked gently.

She didn’t know why she was crying.

She only knew it hurt.

The door opened — fast, panicked.

A young woman stepped in. Familiar.

Her eyes widened at the girl on the floor — and her heart dropped.

Without a word, she ran to her.

Kneeling, she pulled her into a tight embrace.

The brown-haired girl didn’t resist. She collapsed into her arms, crying harder now — as if that single act of kindness cracked something open inside her.

They stayed there, in the middle of the golden room — two silhouettes, quiet in their pain