Epitome of love, her parents.

Rose's world crumbled around her, shattered by the very hands that had once cradled her tenderly. The realization that her grandparents and sister, the pillars of her life, were the schemers of her destruction pierced her heart like a thousand dagger. Their love, once a comforting embrace, now turned into a cruel betrayal, leaving Rose lost in a sea of sorrow and unanswered questions. The depth of sadness she felt was immeasurable, for the ones she trusted the most had become the creator of her despair.

She was reeling in disbelief at the disclosure tying her demise to a scheme plotted by her own grandparents and cousin. The question of their motive lingered, but she found herself detached, her heart having already acknowledged their true nature. There was no astonishment anymore, just the fracturing of something once familiar within her mind and heart. Witnessing the true faces of her grandparents left her heart as cold and impenetrable as an eternal glacier, frozen in the extremes of the earth.

In the aftermath of drawing her final breath, time seemed to blur. In the state of nothingness, she lived for who knows how long. Suddenly, a radiant source pierced through the turmoil. Distant voices attempted to reach her, yet their words were incomprehensible cacophony, causing a throbbing headache that she cannot put an end to. As a lifeless body, she reasoned this must be her funeral. People must be pointing their fingers at her and laughing at her terrible demise. She could even imagine Boyle crying her heart out. That bitch. She felt like cursing and at the same time calming herself. However, just the thought of their laughter and accusatory gestures among the gathering only intensified her frustration. She is a human at the end. How can she feign indifference just because she failed at everything.

Yet soon the escalating noise level became an unbearable torment, calling forth an intense desire to scream, overstepping any consideration of heaven or hell. Even in death, peace remained evasive, every echoed word tortured her existence.

Before her death, she held onto the hope that the conflictual life she had would result to serenity in the afterlife. Yet, the disheartening point of encountering the tumult and chaos even after death shattered her sense of expectations. Truly unexpected. Amidst this disarray of emotions, a faint voice gradually gained clarity, offering a glimmer of solace.

“They were so focused on caring for Boyle that they completely ignored our little Rose, who almost drowned in the cold-water pond. If it hadn't been for little Jack, Rose…” The person took a deep breath, paused, and didn't resume speaking immediately. Despite the silence, the message was evident, and then, in a slow and deliberative manner, she emphasized, “And now they are unfairly blaming our little one for simply protecting herself. It's irrational and cruel. Your mother and father just started blaming Rose. They are acting like unreasonable maniac.”

In the hazy blur between sleep and wakefulness, Rose felt the touch of an embrace, a tight cocoon wrapping around her. A tremble coursed through the arms holding her, their tears falling like gentle rain on her shoulder, each drop carrying the weight of unspoken sorrows. The muffled sobs, an anguished melody, and spoke volumes of worry. Amidst the tears a faint murmur could be heard.

“I don't believe our darling could push someone over something related to playing. Accusing her while she's unconscious isn't fair. Let's wait until she wakes up so we can discuss this matter properly.”

Another voice, that of a man, resonated with rust and concern, “They are simply attempting to shift the blame. This matter will soon be clarified, but our primary focus should remain on Rose, who has endured too much. My daughter suffered. I'm very incapable.” He sighed sadly, taking deep breath, desperately trying to hold back the flood of tears threatening to overwhelm him.

At this eternity the person who is under the embrace is showing some action. As Rose stirred from unconsciousness, her eyes slowly opened to the sterile walls of a hospital room. Confusion swept over her as she took the quiet space, noticing only two figures present-her parents. A lady has embraced her and before her is a man. They are looking at her with worry in their eyes. Stunned, she struggled to believe they were there. Her entire being shook while trying calm down. To her everything is very peculiar. The two persons before her cannot be here. How can they be here with her? Did they also... She cannot think properly. The sadness grew more furiously along with the madness she has after dead. How should she talk with them? She entirely disregarded the earlier conversation that she heard. For now, how should she apologize to them? How? Just saying will do? Will it be enough for them to forgive her? Her feelings a surge of nervousness that whispered this might be an unreal dream. Amidst this disbelief and confusion, a sharp pang of bitterness and guilt clawed at her heart. These figures, her parents, epitomes of love, faced her despite her prior reluctance to accept their care. It felt like plunging into a nightmarish reality she couldn't escape. It was all her fault.

If she could, her wish is to slam her head at any wall. The livid in her mind is unaccountable. Suddenly her whole body felt like a child. Her mind and heart only wanted to flow out the mourning she had.

With extreme fastness her eyes swept through the room. It is very similar. Rose just wanted to whine when memories flooded back. She was nine, playing with her cousin Boyle. Boyle shoved her into icy water, and in desperate attempt to save herself, she grabbed Boyle's sleeve, pulling her in too. Boyle was standing there with ease, couldn't keep them both afloat. Despite being older Boyle didn't help her and left her to drown with her servants help, promising to seek help. Time passed but no help arrived. If not for her brother Jack and his maid, Rose might not have made it. Reflecting on this, it seems Boyle held a grudge against her from those early years, doesn't she?

Pondering over it her head started to ache severely. She took a long breath to calm herself. The surrounding is still not acceptable. It is too suspicious. As she regained her sight the woman moved and looked over at her. She saw the woman enveloping her radiated an air of sophistication, clad in a sleek black business suit that accentuated her elegant demeanor. Her fair complexion added to her allure, her lustrous, golden hair fashioned into a bun resembling a river of spun gold-she was unmistakably Catherine Amber, her mother. Beside her stood a man with commanding presence, his chiseled features etched with concern. His piercing blue eyes mirrored the depth of the ocean, matching the hue of his tailored business attire. This was Leo Amber, her father, both of them having rushed to her side without changing from their business trip.

This care for her had always been steadfast, a sentiment she failed to fully appreciate, and now, in the midst of her realization, she found herself weeping silently, tears streaming down her face unbeknownst to her, as she lay there lifeless. She is unwilling to cry. How dare her eyes? She started to curse herself. How can she have the face to cry after doing everything that she shouldn't. For at least, the last time she would like to talk with them. Despite everything, with maturity and understanding, she wants to be sensible.

Her parents standing over her wore expressions etched with anguish. The strong frown over their faces contorted by the pain of an unexpected turn of events. They had anticipated her to recoil, perhaps even let out a piercing scream, but to their astonishment, not a single word escaped her lips. Instead, a silent cascade of tears flowed, her grief visible yet unvoiced, a sorrowful testament to the depth of her emotions.

After a deeply affecting pause, her mother enfolding her spoke in a voice tinged with both agony and heartfelt concern. With delicate care, she uttered words laced with tenderness, "Don't fret little Rose. Mama's here by your side. No one will dare to hurt you; I promise. I'll shield you from everyone. Are you scared because of what happened? Sweetheart please, don't be afraid. Why this silence? Speak to me, my dear." Her voice a soothing melody contained with worry, echoed in the silent room. A search of reassurance in the growing tension. The gentle hands patted repeatedly behind her back. It was reassuring. Rose felt relieved.

Unlike her, Catherine's chest tightened with an inexplicable sense of unease creeping in. A corroding uncertainty settled within her as she observed her daughter; an unidentifiable peculiarity seemed to shadow her usual demeanor. Moreover, Leo's countenance has an unexpected severeness, his features faithless to an unspoken discomfort that added to the growing anxiousness.

He, with heart heavy with concern, observed his daughter's silent tears, the faint quiver of her lips betraying the turmoil within. His voice soft and filled with paternal worry, shudder slightly as he gently inquired, "Darling how are you feeling now? Is there any discomfort in your back?" Pausing he tenderly brushed his hands against her forehead, his brows furrowing in worry, "and the fever, my dear, has it shown any signs of easing?"

In that moment, as Rose heard their words, a tremor ran through her, using her hem to clear the tears that clouded her vision. A profound realization washed over her: the touch, the sensation, felt indescribably real. Stunned, she steadied herself, her head shaking slightly in disbelief, before finally answering, "There's no discomfort, Father, Mother, don't worry." Her mind twisted with vociferous thoughts- is this common experience after death, or is this reality? Everything around her held an eerie, hyper-realistic quality, leaving her bewildered. Is this an illusion? Is this something which everyone is to face. Yet despite, the chaos within, Rose masked her confusion maintaining a normal face for her concerned parents. She didn't hope up.

Hope is a betrayal,

the more one hopes,

the more disappointment will befall.

Her parents were taken aback, utterly shock. Their nine-year-old daughter's thoughtful demeanor was unexpected. Typically, at this tender age, she should have been openly sobbing, her worries limited to the immediate moment. Instead, her tears flowed silently, and her response carried a bothersome maturity beyond her years, an attempt to shield her parents from concern. The situation pained her parents deeply, unable to witness their daughter's usual innocent grievances. 'While sensitivity is a virtue, she seemed burdened by an emotional depth beyond her age.'

Mr. and Mrs. Amber are rolling with concern, watching their once innocent daughter now caught in the grip of sensibility, coping with the loss of her innocence. Rose bit her lips to stop her tears. It made her eyes redden. From start to end her hands remained clutch as if she is trying her best to become sensible. As they witness these changes, suspicions grew, hinting at the possibility of additional reasons that might have led their daughter to plunge into the water, leaving them unsettled with the complexity of the situation. Rose spends most of her days in the care of her grandparents, as Leo and Catherine are often occupied with work commitments. Her elder brother is engrossed in his studies, leaving Rose without constant companionship. Occasionally, her cousin Boyle joins her, providing moments to play and camaraderie in their small circle. With these few individuals as her primary companions, Rose's world revolves around the presence and interactions she shares with them.

Looking at their beautiful daughter both Catherine and Leo were so sad that they cannot help but hugged her tightly. They were conscious enough to avoid the hand which is still connected to small pipes to her tender nerves. They noticed the small, beautiful girl in their embrace. Her voice, akin to the sweet melody of childhood, carries a delicate, innocent charm. Her arms adorned with a touch of adorable innocence, showcase flawless, unblemished skin, exuding tender aura. Moreover, her lustrous golden hair as world knows mirrors the elegance of her mother, Catherine, while her piercing blue eyes reflect the depth of her father, Leo. She gracefully embodies a perfect amalgamation of her parents' finest qualities, a breathtaking proof of their legacy.

Like every other parent they also wished to spoil their daughter endlessly. They are like other parents and does their daughter. She is not a god. She should not be concern with others reaction and reasons. Frustration grew and slammed their heart with pain and guilt. They will never leave her alone from this moment. The firmness in their eyes were left unnoticed by Rose who is in very deep thought.