A new begining

Celeste woke with a jolt, her breath uneven as her eyes adjusted to the soft silver light streaming through the grand arched window. The room was a blend of simplicity and elegance, its golden patterns shimmering faintly under the moon's watchful gaze. The bed she lay on felt unfamiliar, the silken sheets cool against her skin. Yet even in this moment of tranquility, the memory of the day's events rushed back with brutal clarity, pulling her into an undertow of sorrow.

Her chest tightened as her mind settled on Zhypher—on the raw grief etched across his face, his anguish a wound she couldn't reach. She barely had the strength to sit up when a knock broke through the oppressive silence.

The door creaked open, revealing a woman in her thirties. Her presence was gentle, yet there was an undeniable strength in her bearing.

"You're awake," the woman said softly, stepping inside.

Celeste struggled to meet her gaze, her voice trembling. "What… happened?"

The woman moved closer, sitting beside her on the bed. Her gaze, full of compassion, seemed to carry unspoken sorrow. "You fainted," she said. "The day has been… overwhelming. It's no surprise."

The weight of shame bore down on Celeste, her hands twisting the edge of the blanket. Tears welled in her hazel eyes, brimming with regret. "I just stood there," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I couldn't help him. I failed."

The woman placed a steady hand on Celeste's shoulder, her touch warm and grounding. "You didn't fail anyone," she said firmly. "My mother's time was already written. There's nothing more you could have done."

The words offered little solace. The haunting image of Zhypher crumbled on the floor, his cries like shattered glass cutting into the silence, refused to leave her. She felt the sharp edge of his despair in her own heart, as if it had become her own.

"I…" Celeste's voice faltered, her vulnerability spilling over. "Please don't send me away. If my aunt finds out, she'll—" Her voice caught. "I can't go back there. I'll do anything. Just don't send me back."

The woman's eyes softened, her expression turning tender. "Celeste," she began, her voice calm but resolute. "I'm not here to send you away. My name is Niana. I'm Zhypher's sister."

Celeste blinked, confusion flickering in her hazel gaze.

Niana offered a small, reassuring smile. "I need you to stay. Zhypher needs someone right now, even if he doesn't realize it."

"But…" Celeste hesitated. "Does he even want me here? I don't think he—"

"Zhypher is complicated," Niana interrupted, her tone edged with sorrow. "He keeps everyone at arm's length because he's afraid of letting anyone in. But he's not as unfeeling as he appears. He's just… lost." She met Celeste's eyes, her gaze steady. "And I believe you might be the one to help him find his way again."

Celeste's heart ached at the thought. She wanted to believe Niana's words, but doubt clung to her. "I don't know if I'm strong enough," she whispered. "What if I fail him too?"

"You won't," Niana said with quiet certainty. "Because you care. That's more than enough."

She stood, her silhouette framed by the golden light spilling through the doorway. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Uncle Martin is, too. That means Zhypher will need someone here—someone who sees beyond the walls he's built." She paused, then added, "Don't give up on him, Celeste. No matter how hard it gets."

As Niana left, Celeste sat in the stillness of the room, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on her. Memories of her own pain stirred—the loss of her parents, the cruelty she endured. She knew Zhypher's anguish, the sharp emptiness it left behind.

"I won't fail him," she murmured to herself, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest.

---

Morning light painted the walls in soft hues as Celeste rose from the bed, her resolve firm. Today marked the start of something new—not just for Zhypher, but for herself. She wasn't a victim anymore. She was here with a purpose, and she was determined to see it through.

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Martin stood in the hallway, his expression as stern as always.

"We'll return by 9 PM after completing Fiaon's funeral rituals," he said briskly. "Until then, remain inside the mansion."

"Understood," Celeste replied, her tone respectful but unwavering.

As their footsteps echoed through the halls, Celeste found herself alone in the vast, silent mansion. Her wandering led her to a grand library, the sight of its towering shelves taking her breath away. Back at her aunt's house, books had been forbidden—a luxury she was never allowed. Now, standing among the endless stories, she felt a quiet thrill.

But reality soon called her back. The clock struck 8 PM, and she hurried to prepare something for Zhypher. Cooking wasn't her strength, but she poured her heart into the meal, hoping it would be enough to show her commitment.

The sound of the car's arrival jolted her, and her pulse quickened.

As Zhypher stepped inside, his presence was like a storm—intense, silent, yet unmistakable. Celeste met his gaze briefly before lowering hers, unsure of what to expect.

This was her chance to prove herself—not just as a maid, but as someone he could rely on. Despite the uncertainty ahead, one thing was clear: she wouldn't back down.

For Zhypher's sake, she would become his strength, even if it meant standing alone in the shadow of his grief.