A few minutes after the door closed, silence returned to Sylvia's room. Soft morning light began to filter through the thin curtains, bathing the space in a golden hue. The morning air carried the scent of dew, blending with the faint lavender aroma of incense that had almost finished burning.
Sylvia remained lying down, but her eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling without expression. After a while, she slowly sat up in bed, combing her long hair with her cold fingers. No words were spoken only silence.
A heavy silence.
She no longer pretended. There was no one watching, no one to convince. Just herself... and the emptiness quietly growing within her chest.
"Celes…"
The name escaped her lips. Not with anger. Not with regret. Just a word soft, honest, and fragile.
Sylvia lowered her gaze, staring at the creases on the side of the bed. They were still warm. There was still a faint trace of the girl's unique scent. She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers to her chest.
