7

I pulled myself from the memories.

Jake, driving beside me, handed me a tissue.

I stared at it for a moment, only then realizing my eyes were wet.

When I agreed to join the professor's twenty-year isolated research project, I thought I had made peace with everything.

Now I discovered that remembering the past still brought tears to my eyes.

It's okay. It's okay.

People just need more time to forget and let go.

I returned to campus, moved into the dorm, and continued organizing my affairs.

The next day, while heading to the library with Jake, I ran into my three brothers again.

Matthew, now a mentor at the research institute, had become an associate professor at only thirty-five.

His presence at the library wasn't surprising.

I pretended not to see them, found a seat, opened my laptop, and continued typing, one word at a time.

Sarah, however, dragged my brothers to sit not far from me.

I kept hearing the girl's quiet laughter.

Matthew and Daniel patted her head: "Be good, and in a couple of days, we'll go see the Northern Lights."

Hearing their words, I felt my chest tighten. I got up and moved to a corner.

When I came back to my senses, Matthew, Daniel, and William had their backs to me, chatting with another professor from the department.

Sarah had silently made her way to my side.

My internal alarm went off. She lunged forward and grabbed my bracelet, throwing it to the ground. This bracelet contained my parents' ashes. It shattered on impact, its contents scattering, carried away by the air conditioning current.

Sarah immediately threw herself to the floor with dramatic flair, her forehead hitting a chair as she screamed and cried.

Students in the library turned to look.

With trembling hands, I knelt on the floor, trying to prevent the ashes from being blown away.

My head was buzzing.

My brothers rushed over, immediately accusing me without asking what happened:

"Emma, why did you push Sarah?!"

Daniel helped Sarah up, his face angry.

More and more people gathered around.

Jake was nearby and hurried over when he heard the commotion.

He looked at the shattered bracelet on the floor, then at my expression, quickly understanding what had happened.

"Did she break your bracelet?!"

Matthew's anger froze as he walked over and looked at the mess on the floor.

After a long moment, he frowned: "That's impossible, Sarah wouldn't..."

I didn't listen to the rest of what they were saying. I quickly gathered the remaining ashes in my shirt and said to Jake, "Let's go."

How strange.

I should have been furious. I should have lost control like countless times before, yelling at Sarah, maybe even getting physical.

Then, amid my brothers' favoritism and indulgence toward Sarah, I should have lost control and had a huge argument with them.

But at this moment, I just wanted to leave.

I had been arguing with them for three years.

For four years, countless times, always with the same result.

Now, I didn't want to argue anymore.

After all, I only had a few days left before I'd be gone.

I carried the ashes out of the library.

Behind me, Matthew followed.

I heard his voice, tinged with a hint of guilt and discomfort:

"Sarah was wrong about this. She didn't mean to do it. I'll prepare a new bracelet for you to hold your parents' ashes."

I replied flatly: "Don't bother."

I was leaving. I no longer had hope for them.

I walked toward the end of the hallway.

Matthew, for whatever reason, suddenly seemed struck by something.

The man who hadn't been willing to say more than a word to me for years suddenly caught up and grabbed my arm.

"Emma, what... what's going on with you lately?"

His voice seemed to overflow with a trace of uneasiness.

But I didn't turn around.

I just reached out and gently pushed his hand away.

We were silent for a while until he spoke again:

"Sarah is just young."

"Although I'm upset about the bracelet too, for the sake of Sarah's mother's sacrifice, we should forgive her."

So, he was afraid I would resent Sarah and harm her in anger?

And I thought, for once, they were finally willing to stand on my side.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, finding myself ridiculous.

I walked into the elevator and pressed the close button.

That heart that had once refused to give up was finally calming down, gradually becoming like still water with no ripples.

It seemed I no longer felt sad.

As the elevator doors closed, I spoke softly: "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Daniel and William urgently reached out, probably wanting to stop the closing doors, but it was too late.

In my last glimpse, I thought I saw panic and helplessness in their eyes. Probably just my imagination.