Morning sunlight tried to sneak through the curtains, but the heavy air in the twins' mansion swallowed it whole. The house was still, unnervingly quiet, as though every wall, every floorboard, carried the weight of the girl lying upstairs.
Aira.
Her fragile body lay curled on the guest bed, her chest rising and falling faintly. The pale glow of dawn kissed her face, but it did nothing to hide her fragility. She looked less like a girl and more like a porcelain doll cracked in too many places, yet still refusing to shatter.
The silence was broken by a knock. A soft, deliberate knock.
The family doctor entered again, his expression grave. His eyes lingered on the sleeping girl before turning to the others gathered in the room. His voice was calm, but there was an undertone of steel."I need everyone to wait outside. This time… I have to check her carefully. Alone. Please."
The command carried a weight that none of them dared to argue with. One by one, they filed out, their faces torn between worry and dread.
Zane was the last to leave. He bent down, brushing his lips across Aira's cool forehead with a tenderness that almost broke him. His hand lingered against her cheek, reluctant to pull away, his jaw clenched hard. Then, with visible effort, he straightened and walked out, fists curling tight at his sides.
The door clicked shut.
The doctor pulled a chair beside Aira's bed and sat carefully, as if the mattress itself might reject him. She didn't open her eyes, but he knew she wasn't asleep. Her breathing was too uneven, her lashes trembling faintly. She was awake—but detached. She had learned long ago that fighting pain was useless.
"I'm just checking you, Aira," he murmured softly, slipping on his gloves. "You're safe here. I promise."
His hands moved slowly, respectfully. At first, her pulse, her breathing, her temperature. But when his fingers brushed along her back, his breath caught.
And froze.
He lifted the fabric of her shirt just enough to see—and nearly wished he hadn't.
Her back was a battlefield.
Scars upon scars layered like cruel brushstrokes of suffering. Some thin, some thick. Some so deep they carved into her skin like hateful signatures. Whip marks. Belt lashings. Stick beatings. And worse—long, jagged burns that looked like someone had pressed fire against her flesh and held it there until it branded her.
Newer wounds stood out angry red, like fresh accusations. Old ones were faded, ghostly, yet no less damning. Each scar told a story. Each story was cruel.
His hands trembled.
He moved lower, carefully checking her wrists—rings of bruises and faint rope marks around them. A history of being restrained. Of being silenced.
He forced himself to stay professional, but when he looked at her face, his composure cracked.
Her eyes were closed, but tears slipped silently down her temples, soaking into the pillow. She was crying… even in sleep.
The doctor's chest tightened painfully. He had seen soldiers, survivors, and victims. But this—this was something deeper. Not just pain. Not just suffering. This was a soul that had been broken, rebuilt with shards, and broken again.
His hands shook as he finished.
He stood slowly, removing his gloves, cleaning his instruments with motions that looked too stiff, too mechanical. He took one last look at Aira—this fragile, broken girl who still breathed despite everything—and he swore silently to himself that the world owed her peace.
When he opened the door, everyone jumped to their feet instantly.
Zane's eyes locked on him like daggers. His voice came low, sharp, almost demanding. "How is she?"
The doctor didn't answer right away. He closed the door behind him, drawing in a deep breath. Then he looked at each of them—faces filled with fear, guilt, love—and his voice dropped."Sit down. You all need to hear this."
The weight in his words made their hearts stutter. They obeyed, the air thickening until it felt hard to breathe.
His throat worked before he finally spoke, his voice raw with restrained anger."What I'm about to say… isn't easy. But you deserve the truth."
A silence fell so sharp it hurt.
"She has multiple scars," he began slowly. "Some fresh. Some so old they should've healed long ago, but they never did—because they weren't treated properly. Her body has been abused… repeatedly. Not just once. Not just recently. But for years."
The words sliced through them like blades.
Kai's jaw dropped, his chest heaving as though he couldn't get enough air. Valentina gripped his arm so tightly her nails dug into his flesh, but he didn't even flinch.
The doctor continued, voice darkening."She has bone bruises. Untreated cuts. Internal bleeding that went unnoticed. She has scars on her palms from clawing herself to stay quiet. Her lips… are scarred from biting down until they bled, just to stop herself from screaming."
Bianca covered her mouth with both hands, her shoulders trembling as sobs escaped. Ivy tried wiping her tears, but they fell faster than she could stop them.
Rei slammed his fist against the wall, the crack of his knuckles splitting echoing through the hall, blood smearing across the paint. He didn't care.
Damian paced furiously, his hands pulling through his hair like he wanted to rip it out. Curses fell from his lips under his breath, each one sharper than the last.
And Zane—
Zane sat still. Too still. His face empty, his eyes hollow. But beneath that mask, something was burning—an inferno building silently, waiting to consume.
His chest rose and fell unevenly, his fists trembling on his knees. He didn't look at anyone. He didn't blink. But his silence was louder than any scream.
The doctor lowered his voice, softer, sadder."She has night terrors. Even in sleep, she cries without knowing. Her mind has been at war for so long, it doesn't know how to stop. That's why she doesn't smile. That's why she's distant. It's not coldness—it's survival."
His words shook them all.
Then, Zane finally moved. He leaned forward, elbows digging into his thighs, his voice low, cracking like thunder just before a storm."Who did this to her?"
The doctor hesitated. "The patterns… some are old. Very old. This isn't just recent. She was being hurt for a long time. Years."
Dead silence followed.
The world seemed to tilt.
Even Mr. and Mrs. Everett sat in shock, their hands clasped tightly as though they could anchor themselves to reality.
Rei pressed his forehead against the wall, blood dripping from his knuckles. Bianca couldn't stop whispering "No… no… no…" under her breath.
But Zane—Zane's storm finally broke.
Inside him, rage burned like wildfire. Memories of her faint smiles, her quiet flinches, her hollow stares—every detail stabbed at him now. He should've seen it. He should've known. He should've protected her sooner.
And now… all he wanted was destruction.
But more than that—he wanted to rebuild her. Piece by fragile piece.
The doctor, seeing the raw devastation in the room, placed the prescription quietly on the table. His voice softened, trembling slightly."I can give her medicine for her physical wounds. But the true healing… it won't come from pills. It has to come from love. From patience. From reminding her every single day… that she is no longer alone."
He straightened, preparing to leave, his last words hanging like prophecy."She's not just hurt. She's shattered. Treat her gently… or you'll lose her forever."
And with that, he left, his footsteps heavy with sorrow.
The silence afterward was unbearable. Only muffled sobs, harsh breathing, the sound of fists clenching and unclenching.
And in the middle of it all—Zane.
He lifted his head slowly, his jaw tight, his eyes glistening but merciless. In that moment, he wasn't just a man in love. He was a man who had made a vow.
A vow sealed in silence, but stronger than steel.
Whatever it takes… whoever I have to fight… I will protect you, Aira. Even if the world crumbles, you will never cry alone again.
He closed his eyes and whispered into the quiet air—A promise.A vow.A prayer.
To the broken girl he loved more than life itself.