I couldn't believe Isolde had chosen to spend time with Alicia over me.

  A simple decision, seemingly insignificant, yet it left me with this strange knot in my chest. I didn't remember ever feeling this way before—though I couldn't say for certain. Memory is treacherous, especially when it comes to emotions.

  This... this was new. Annoyance, yes, but tinged with a quiet sadness, like dampness seeping through cracks in the ceiling. I wanted to cry, but also to scream. We hadn’t even argued that fiercely. No cruel words, no shouting—and yet, it felt like my little world... was wobbling.

  What is this?

  "You sure you're alright?" Reginald asked, not looking up from the metal piece he was meticulously tightening with a screw.

  "Huh? Oh, yeah," I replied, as if waking from a dream.

  "You seem pretty distracted."

  "I'm fine."

  "I mean... yeah, you look fine, but something's clearly off. What happened?"

  Reginald kept working as he observed me. There was something unsettling about his attention—not invasive, but far too precise. After all these days together, he'd probably noticed the unusual closeness between Isolde and me. Not just physical, but emotional. He was too sharp.

  "Isolde and I had a fight," I said, letting a pout slip out uninvited. Technically, I was still a child. I was allowed that weakness, wasn’t I?

  "Ah, so that's it... What exactly happened? I’ve never seen you two argue before."

  He was right. In these eight years with Isolde, we’d never had a real fight. It was strange. Siblings are supposed to fight, aren’t they? That’s the image I’d formed in my past life.

  My cousins argued daily, my uncles went at it with fists and shouts. Drunk or sober, they always found something to scream about—money, pride, stupid things. I grew up thinking that was the nature of family bonds. Maybe it warped my idea of what having a sister meant.

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  I sighed. And I told Reginald everything.

  He laughed.

  "You seriously fought over something that stupid?!"

  I didn’t see what was funny. My jaw tightened, and I let my head thump onto the table, unable to hide my irritation. To me, it wasn’t amusing at all. I just wanted to understand why this hurt. Why it stung that Isolde refused to come study with me, like she always did.

  "You know you’re going to fight way more times than you expect, right?" Reginald said, still fiddling with his metal piece.

  "I know. But I feel bad for leaving without her."

  "Hahaha. Well. Why don’t you talk to her? I’m absolutely sure she feels bad too."

  "I don’t know... What if she’s mad? What if she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore?"

  I felt like a little kid. Not physically—emotionally. Weak. Stupid. Afraid. As if one more word could shatter me completely.

  "Hey, don’t think like that," Reginald cut in, still not looking up from his work. "She’s your sister, remember? And I haven’t noticed her being upset with you. Doesn’t seem like you’ve done anything worth getting angry over, either."

  I sighed—a shapeless, empty sigh. The kind that doesn’t seek relief, just space.

  What am I supposed to do? What if she tells me to go to hell? What if she just… chooses Alicia and leaves me behind?

  I wanted to think positively. I had to. But after so many years at Isolde’s side, the line between closeness and dependence had blurred. Without realizing it, she’d become the anchor keeping me from plummeting into the void.

  I’d never felt anything like this before. It was, unmistakably, a problem.

  Since we were babies, we’d been practically a single unit. A few meters apart, and we’d burst into tears. Now, a few hours apart, and nerves would eat at us from the inside out.

  When I wasn’t there, she grew tense. When she was gone, a quiet anxiety would crawl up my spine.

  "Would it even be… smart to talk to her?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

  "It’s not about whether it’s smart," Reginald replied. "It’s necessary. Let it fester, and soon it’ll be awkward just to speak to each other. And you don’t want that… do you?"

  An effective way to instill fear: dangling the decay of something important.

  But he was right. I didn’t want us to become a minefield of silences and assumptions. Even if the fight had been trivial—and it was, objectively—it wasn’t worth risking our bond over pride or fear.

  Besides… I’d always been the one who followed her.

  "Fine. I’ll go apologize."

  Reginald smiled, as if he’d seen it coming.

  "Good. Then go. I’ll be here if you two come back."

  I nodded. Turned to the door without looking back.

  And just… left.