The mansion had never felt this quiet before. Once, laughter used to echo off the walls, footsteps would race through the hallways, and Aira's soft humming would drift like sunlight into every room. But now, silence pressed down like a heavy fog. It didn't just fill the air—it choked it. The warmth that made the house feel alive had vanished with her.
Mira stood near the staircase, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if holding herself together. Her gaze was fixed on the front door, stubborn, desperate, like if she stared hard enough, Aira might suddenly walk back in with that bright smile. Her eyes burned red, lips trembling as she whispered, "I can't believe she's really gone… she used to greet everyone every morning, no matter how tired she was. Now… now this place feels dead."
The chandelier above glimmered faintly in the sunlight, but even its light seemed duller.
Rayen leaned against the wall, scoffing, though his voice betrayed regret beneath the bravado. "She didn't even say goodbye. Just packed her things and left—like we meant nothing." His fists clenched, and for a brief second, guilt flickered in his eyes before he quickly looked away.
Thomas sat heavily in his armchair, the leather creaking under his weight. His hand pressed against his temples, his face pale with exhaustion. "She asked to study abroad with that cold, distant tone…" he muttered, voice cracking at the edges. "It was like looking at a stranger. I said yes, thinking it was just a whim. I didn't expect her to actually go through with it…"
The clock ticked in the background, each second loud in the suffocating stillness.
Lily sat stiffly across from him, her chin raised high, pride still shielding her. Her arms folded tight, her jaw locked. "She chose to go," she said, though her voice was quieter than she intended. "She distanced herself first."
Mira's head whipped toward her mother, disbelief and anger flashing in her tearful eyes. "No, Mom. We pushed her. We let Sana twist everything, and we just stood there while Aira was shattered right in front of us."
The words cut sharper than a blade, and the silence afterward was deafening.
Rayen finally muttered, softer this time, almost as if admitting it to himself. "I thought she was just being dramatic… but that look in her eyes before she left…" His voice trailed, hollow. "It was empty. Like she had already died inside."
The house seemed to groan with the weight of their words, its walls holding secrets and regrets they couldn't escape.
In the Langford mansion, a similar heaviness lingered. The once-bustling household had turned grave. Mr. Langford sat beside Elena, who was recovering slowly, her steps still weak. She looked around with hopeful eyes and asked, "Where's Aira? I want to see her."
Jayden leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and answered coldly, "She left. Gone abroad, apparently."
Mrs. Langford's lips pursed. Her voice followed like ice. "And good riddance. She brought danger into this family."
Elena snapped, fury shaking her weak frame. "What? Are you serious? She saved me! She stood in front of me, she begged them to stop touching me. She bled because of me. And what did we do? What did you all do?!"
The room froze, her voice echoing in their ears.
"She was bruised. Terrified. And still protecting me. We let her break—and no one held her together." Elena's voice cracked, her eyes brimming with tears.
The silence was unbearable.
Mr. Langford finally spoke, his tone sharp enough to slice the tension. "Enough. She's gone now. Because she had no reason to stay." His eyes dropped, shadowed with regret. "And we gave her none."
Back at the Brown house, shadows stretched long across the walls. Sana leaned against her doorway, her expression twisted in irritation rather than remorse. Her voice dripped with venom as she muttered, "She always wanted attention. Now she has it, even when she's gone."
Thomas, usually quick to defend Sana, didn't answer. His shoulders sagged under invisible weight.
Lily sat on the sofa, her fingers nervously clutching the fabric of her dress. For once, her voice cracked, quiet and uncertain. "She's not coming back… is she?"
The silence that followed was the only answer.
Meanwhile, in another country, life was moving forward without pause.
Aira walked through campus like a shadow wrapped in flesh. Professors, classmates, staff—she spoke to them with sharp precision, her tone clipped, her words efficient. Never once did she smile. Never once did her mask crack. She was a storm in a glass bottle—contained, beautiful, and unreachable.
One student approached her hesitantly, a hopeful smile on her face. "Hey, do you want to join the new student group? It might be fun."
Aira's eyes flicked toward her. No emotion. Just a flat, piercing stare. "No."
The girl blinked, embarrassed, before scurrying away.
In her quiet apartment, Aira learned to do everything alone—cooking, laundry, budgeting, handling emergencies. She never called home. She never even looked at her old photos.
The girl they once knew—the bright Aira who filled rooms with warmth—was gone.
Only Aira Brown remained now. Cold. Untouchable. Unforgiving.
And back in the homes she left behind, silence sat heavy in every room. Their hearts were hollow, their guilt unspoken, their loss immeasurable.
For they hadn't just lost a daughter, a sister, or a friend.They had lost the light.
And all that remained… were echoes.