Scar

The sky remained strange.

Even as the sun climbed higher, its light filtered through the windows in a faint crimson glow. As though the world was bruised, quietly mourning something not yet spoken.

Inside the cozy lab office, Seraina sipped her coffee while watching Annelise with a raised brow.

"Nothing," Annelise had said, brushing off the moment. "I was just checking your food. Felt like forever since I ate something made by you."

Seraina chuckled, placing both coffee cups and the sandwiches on the table. "You always get dramatic when you're hungry. Eat. You look like you skipped more than breakfast."

They sat close on mismatched cushions, the light cutting golden lines across the floor.

Annelise took a bite of the Swiss sandwich—rich, creamy cheese blending with sautéed onions, soft potatoes, and macaroni. It melted in her mouth. For a second, everything around her blurred. The taste brought something warm to her chest, something dangerously close to joy. Her fingers, delicate and manicured, licked off a spot of cheese.

She wanted to cry.

She hadn't tasted anything this good in months. Maybe longer.

She hadn't felt this safe.

Her eyes welled up. But she blinked quickly, forcing it away. Her smile returned, rehearsed, radiant.

"God, I forgot how good you are at this," she said.

Seraina gave her a proud little shrug. "Told you, you'd starve without me."

Annelise reached for the coffee cup, its warmth teasing her fingers. But as she brought it up too quickly, a jolt of pain stung her palm. The ceramic slipped.....cracking on the corner of the table and crashing to the floor. Hot coffee splashed across her soft, pale forearm.

She hissed.

"Annelise!" Seraina jumped to her feet, reaching instinctively. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and gently dabbed the burn.

"Are you okay? Careful, idiot. You're not supposed to bathe in it."

Annelise chuckled through clenched teeth. "Just a minor spill. Don't freak out."

But Seraina's eyes narrowed. "A model who drops a coffee cup in a room without anyone rushing her? That's a little suspicious."

Annelise shrugged, offering her best careless grin. "Guess I'm off my game."

In the quiet corner of the psychiatric office, things were different.

Lina had brought in a tray with simple rice and boiled vegetables. She sat beside Noemie on the cushioned bench, the clinical files now forgotten. She scooped up a small bite and held it to Noemie's lips.

Noemie hesitated. Then opened her mouth slightly, letting the food in.

"You used to eat faster than this. What's gotten into you?" Lina asked, smiling.

"Old habits die slow," Noemie replied softly.

But when Lina handed her the fork, Noemie's hand trembled. The fork slipped and clattered on the floor. In that split second, her sleeve slid back, and the edge of a scar.....still healing.....peeked out.

Lina's eyes snapped to it.

Noemie pulled her sleeve down instantly.

"I slipped," she muttered, eyes cast downward.

Lina didn't speak.

Instead, she picked up another spoonful. "Fine. If you won't feed yourself, I'll do it. You look like you haven't touched real food in weeks."

Noemie didn't answer. She let herself be fed.

But behind the faint smile, her heart was crumbling. The weight of the scar. The pain stitched into her skin. The guilt she wore like perfume...unseen but lingering.

Lina laughed. She told stories about a clueless intern who printed therapy schedules upside-down. She made silly impressions of their senior psychiatrist. She filled the air with warmth.

But Noemie..... Noemie only wore a mask. A smile that wasn't hers. A laugh that didn't reach her lungs.

Eventually, she stood. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course," Lina said, pointing toward the inner corridor. "Second door to the left."

Inside the bathroom, the mirror offered no mercy.

Noemie stared at the small blue bottle near the sink. Her hands shook.

She turned the faucet on, just to make noise.

Then the tears came.

Silently. Violently.

She shoved tissues into her mouth, not to cry out. She fell to her knees, arms wrapped around herself.

A crackle came from under her collar.

A voice.

Cold. Mechanical.

"Do it."

Her eyes widened in terror. She tried to scream. But the tissues muted everything. She collapsed against the tile wall, trembling.

Elsewhere.

In a far room that echoed like a vacuum, Matteo stood with hands in his pockets. He smiled faintly, staring out at an island on the screen.

It looked like paradise.

But there were no people. Only machines. Trucks. Constructions. Hidden under palm trees and smoke.

"Everything's going according to plan," Matteo said, as if to himself. He tilted his head, observing a blinking red light on the lower edge of the display.

"Soon, no more interruptions."

He turned away from the screen.