"…You really look awful," Ella stated gently, removing herself from the bed and standing on the side while she gazed at Cindy's appearance.
Those words alone were enough to make Cindy burst into tears. Not the dignified kind, nor the quiet, but rather, it was loud and full of hiccups, the kind of crying that could ruin her reputation.
Ella froze, panicked.
"Oh…Oh no. This is worse than death!" Ella muttered. "Please don't do that."
Cindy slapped the blanket over her face. "He's gone," she sobbed. "My father is gone! I hate it! I hate it!"
Ella slowly sat on the edge of the bed, unsure where to put her hands, eventually settling for placing the plate of cake between them like a peace offering.
"I bought you chocolate," Ella said quietly. "I don't know how to mourn properly, but this helped me feel… less empty, or maybe more full. I'm not sure."
Cindy peeked out from under the blanket, eyes red and furious.
"…Is that even a good cake?" Cindy asked, hesitant.
"Yes," Ella replied, pushing the plate closer.
There was a long pause between them. It was awkward.
Then Cindy reached for the fork and took a bite. She chewed and swallowed, then cried even harder.
"This is unfair," Cindy stated between sobs. "He was awful, and now he's dead, and I don't even know if I'm allowed to miss him."
Ella stared at the ceiling. She just heard Cindy calling her father 'awful' and didn't know how to react.
"I don't miss him," Ella said honestly. "I feel bad about that, but I don't miss him."
Cindy sniffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course, you just met him recently."
Cindy's words landed like a slap.
Ella's head snapped toward Cindy. "That's not—" she stopped herself, jaw tightening. "That's not fair."
"Oh?" Cindy shot back, sitting up abruptly. The blanket slid down, forgotten. "Nothing about this is fair."
"I'm not saying it is," Ella said, standing now. Her voice rose despite herself. "But don't pretend you're the only one who lost something."
For Ella, she had lost her old life. The simple life she had always wanted and be with her mother, who was cheerful and full of life. However, Cindy didn't understand it, since, for her, being part of the nobility was the most sought-after life everyone wanted to attain.
Cindy laughed. Short, bitter, and almost hysterical. "Lost what, exactly? A stranger? A title? A man who barely looked at you unless you were standing in the wrong place, or did something incorrectly?"
Ella's hands curled into a fist at her sides. "You think that didn't hurt? Living under the same roof as a man who made it very clear that we are just here as a replacement? A need?"
"At least you were wanted," Cindy snapped.
The word echoed between them as the tension increased. It was suffocating for both of them, but no one wanted to back down.
Ella blinked. "What? What did you just say?" Her gaze sharpened as she wanted to choke Cindy out of breath.
Cindy stood up fully now, swaying slightly. "Don't look at me like that. You don't know. You don't know what it was like before Mother died."
Ella's chest tightened. "Then tell me."
Cindy's lips trembled. For a moment, it looked like she might cry again, but instead, anger surged up and burned through the grief.
"I spend most of my days studying, practicing to be the greatest noblewoman. The most eligible to marry into royalty, but I didn't know how hard my mother worked as a Viscountess. That was until my Mama's body couldn't take it anymore…" Cindy sniffed, and her eyes looked like they were in the distance.
Ella stepped back instinctively. "Cindy—"
"Father only called for us after the funeral. He was afraid it would affect us emotionally and destroy our brains," Cindy continued, her voice breaking as it rose. "After Mother was buried and the house was empty. He started disappearing."
Ella stilled.
"At first, it was just nights," Cindy said. "He said he couldn't sleep. That the silence was unbearable, and the grief made his chest itch." A sharp, humorless laugh tore out of her. "I didn't want to bother him at first, but one day, I became suspicious when he came home drunk. That's when I knew what was happening."
Ella's stomach dropped. "Don't tell me he's—"
"He went out for drinks, to the game of cards. I confronted him, but he said it was his way of grieving. That gambling kept his hands busy so he wouldn't think of Mama, and she would've understood," Cindy spat with hatred. Her fingers dug into the blanket, knuckles while. Her eyes snapped at Ella.
"Do you know how much money a Viscount can burn in one night when he doesn't care if he wakes up the next morning with nothing?" Cindy continued.
Ella didn't answer as she didn't trust her voice. At the same time, her mind was trying to puzzle the pieces of information together to make it make sense.
"The estate bled," Cindy went on. "Quietly. Like an internal wound that kept bleeding. Father borrowed money again and again from friends, from people who were never really friends, and from men who don't knock twice."
Cindy's eyes met Ella once again, sharp and accusing as if daring her to deny it.
"When I found out," Cindy whispered. "It was already too late. The debts were stacked so high I couldn't see the top. Worst, he couldn't pay them anymore as our business plummeted so badly."
Tears streamed down Cindy's cheeks as she remembered those dark days and how it felt like they were barely living.
Ella felt cold. "So… that's why—"
"Yes." Cindy cut Ella off. "That's why we suddenly needed a new beginning. A new family. A new solution for the mess that was created."
Cindy's laugh broke completely this time, ugly and wet. "That's why he looked at your mother, and I'm sure father didn't see her as a woman, but rather a salvation of his pride as a noble. A golden wallet."