Estelle found herself staring at the now familiar ceiling of the infirmary once again, the soft light casting faint shadows on the stone above. Her vision blurred, but it wasn’t from any physical pain—it was from the tears that welled up, threatening to spill over. The frustration of her own inability to change anything gnawed at her, an unrelenting force that made her chest tighten with anger. It was as if the despair that the other Estelle had felt at the end of her life had been passed on to her, a reminder of her own powerlessness that weighed heavily on her heart.

Next to her, Lydia sat quietly, her usual composed demeanor replaced with a rare vulnerability. She was gently wiping away Estelle’s tears with a soft cloth, her hands trembling slightly. As soon as she noticed Estelle beginning to stir, her eyes widened with a mixture of relief and sorrow.

“Estelle… I’m sorry… Does it hurt?” Lydia’s voice broke as she spoke, her own tears finally spilling over. The tough, composed exterior she usually maintained had shattered, leaving her looking almost fragile.

Estelle could feel the depth of emotion in Lydia’s words, a raw mixture of frustration and relief that left Lydia’s brave facade in tatters. It was so unlike the Lydia she had come to know—the Lydia who always seemed so strong, so sure, so resilient, even in the face of overwhelming odds. The one who would never let her true feelings show, always bottling them up to be the pillar for everyone else.

Always…? Estelle thought to herself, the word echoing in her mind as she tried to make sense of the flood of emotions. There was something deeply familiar about this moment, as if she had been here before, comforting Lydia. But this time, it was different. This time, Lydia was the one who needed comfort, and Estelle was the one who needed to be strong.

Who exactly am I? The question lingered in Estelle’s mind, gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. The line between her own identity and that of the other Estelle was becoming increasingly blurred, like a dream fading into reality. She could feel the memories of the other Estelle seeping into her own, the emotions, the regrets, the connections—everything felt so real, so immediate. It was as if she was becoming someone else, and yet, she was still herself.

But as she looked at Lydia’s tear-streaked face, the confusion and uncertainty faded into the background. The sight of Lydia in pain hurt her more than any physical wounds. She pushed aside the thoughts of her identity, knowing that now was not the time to dwell on such questions. Right now, all that mattered was being there for the person who had been there for her.

Estelle reached out and gently pulled Lydia into a hug. The movement caused a dull ache, but she barely noticed it. All she could focus on was the feeling of Lydia’s body trembling against hers, the way Lydia’s sobs quieted as she held her close. Estelle’s heart ached with a tenderness she hadn’t realized she possessed, a deep need to protect and comfort this woman who had become so important to her.

“It’s okay,” Estelle whispered, her voice soft but filled with conviction. “I’m here.”

Lydia clung to her, her tears soaking into Estelle’s shirt as she cried quietly, the weight of everything they had been through finally crashing down on her. Estelle held her tighter, willing her own strength into Lydia, trying to convey with her embrace that they were not alone.

Lydia quickly composed herself, gently pulling away from Estelle's embrace. "I shouldn't have burdened a patient," Lydia said, her voice softening with a hint of guilt. "...especially you..." she murmured under her breath, almost as if she hadn’t meant for Estelle to hear it. But Estelle caught it, feeling a pang of empathy for her friend.

Lydia then shifted gears, her professional demeanor snapping back into place. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her eyes scanning over Estelle with a practiced precision. "Any major discomfort?"

Estelle gave Lydia a reassuring smile, though the memory of her recent pain still lingered. "I'm feeling much better now," she assured her, though she could see the concern still etched on Lydia’s face. "But..." Estelle hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on her. "How long have I been out for?"

Lydia’s expression softened, and she sighed, the exhaustion evident in her eyes. "It has been more than a week," Lydia replied quietly. "We were all scared that you wouldn't wake up again... So I'm glad..." Her voice trailed off, but the relief was clear. Lydia’s eyes shone with unspoken emotion, and for a brief moment, the no-nonsense medic looked vulnerable.

Estelle’s heart ached at the thought of how much her condition must have weighed on everyone, especially Lydia. She reached out and gently squeezed Lydia’s hand, offering what comfort she could. "I’m sorry I made you all worry," Estelle said, her voice filled with sincerity. "But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere."

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Lydia nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, though she quickly blinked them away. "You’d better not," she said, trying to inject some lightness into her tone, though it wavered slightly. "We’ve got enough on our plates without you causing more trouble."

Estelle chuckled softly, appreciating the attempt at humor. "I’ll do my best," she promised, though they both knew that in this world, promises were fragile things.

Lydia gave her a small, tired smile before her expression turned serious again. "I’ll need to check your vitals and make sure everything’s healing properly," she said, moving into her familiar routine. "You’ve been through a lot, Estelle. We can’t afford to take any chances."

Estelle nodded, allowing Lydia to go about her routine as the medic checked her vitals. Despite the comforting familiarity of Lydia’s presence, Estelle’s mind was racing. There was so much she needed to catch up on. And now that Lydia had calmed down, she saw an opportunity to get some answers.

"How has everyone been?" Estelle asked, her voice laced with concern. Lydia paused, her expression thoughtful before she gave a small nod.

"Right... I should fill you in," Lydia began, her tone shifting slightly as she prepared to recount the events Estelle had missed.

Lydia started to explain that right after Estelle had fainted, Alaric’s intense reaction had quickly turned to panic. And even more so when her hair started turning white. The memory of it seemed to make Lydia's eyebrows furrow slightly. "That idiot..." she murmured, though the concern in her eyes for Alaric was unmistakable. But then, something caught Estelle's attention—white hair?

Estelle’s hand instinctively reached up, and sure enough, she noticed that some strands of her hair had streaked a pale white. The sight startled her, but she had little time to dwell on it before Lydia continued.

Lydia recounted how Alaric, in his panic, had clung to her, frozen in shock by the sight of her transformation. "It took quite a bit of effort to knock some sense back into him," Lydia added, a hint of fond exasperation in her voice. She then continues, mentioning that she had managed to get Estelle back to the infirmary just in time. Before the potion wore off or her injuries worsened from the tight hug Alaric had held her in.

Estelle listened in silence, processing the image of Alaric—usually so composed and controlled—losing his cool. She wasn’t sure whether to feel touched or worried by the way he had reacted.

Lydia’s expression softened slightly as she continued. "The commotion Alaric caused... well, it probably helped suppress any talk about 'Lily'. Most people are just concerned about your health now."

"There were talks about me?" Estelle asked, her curiosity piqued. She hadn’t realized there had been rumors about her—rumors that Lydia now seemed intent on brushing aside.

"Yes, but there’s nothing you should worry about anymore," Lydia replied quickly, clearly eager to change the subject. "And most people have probably seen your face by now, so you don’t have to hide it anymore."

Lydia’s words hung in the air, leaving Estelle with more questions than answers. But for now, she sensed that Lydia had said all she was willing to share about the matter.

Lydia sighed, her expression softening slightly as she continued, "That stubborn idiot—Alaric—refused to leave your side after we got you back here. He ignored most of his duties to do so, too." There was a mix of frustration and admiration in Lydia’s voice, the kind that only came from someone who had seen Alaric at his best and worst. "And the kids," she added, a small, fond smile tugging at her lips, "they’ve been in here constantly checking on you. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up any minute now."

Estelle absorbed the information, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at the thought of her siblings worrying over her. But the warmth was tinged with concern—if Alaric had been so focused on her, where is he now? The question swirled in her mind, but before she could voice them, the door to the infirmary burst open with a loud bang, just as Lydia had predicted.

Finn and Mira rushed in, their faces streaked with tears, their expressions a mix of relief and fear. "Sis!" they cried in unison, their voices trembling as they hurried to her side. Lydia barely managed to stop them before they could throw themselves onto the bed, her hands outstretched to hold them back.

"Careful!" Lydia warned, her tone sharp but not unkind. "She’s still recovering. You’ll hurt her if you’re not gentle."

The twins froze, their wide eyes flicking between Lydia and Estelle, as if only now realizing the fragility of the situation. Estelle’s heart ached at the sight of their tear-streaked faces, the fear and worry so evident in their young eyes. She reached out, her movements slow and deliberate, and placed a hand on each of their heads, her touch light but comforting.

"I’m okay," Estelle said softly, her voice soothing as she tried to ease their worries. "I’m right here, I’m fine. Please don’t cry.”

Mira’s lip quivered as she leaned into Estelle’s touch, her tears flowing freely now. "We thought... we thought you were going to leave us, just like before," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Estelle’s heart clenched at the words, the pain in Mira’s voice cutting deeper than any physical wound. "I’m here," she repeated, her voice firm but gentle. "I’m not going anywhere, Mira."

Finn, who had been trying to hold back his own tears, finally let them fall as he leaned in closer to Estelle, his small hand gripping hers tightly. "You scared us," he admitted, his voice shaky. "We didn’t know what was happening. We just... we couldn’t lose you again."

Lydia, who had been watching the scene with a careful eye, softened her stance, allowing the twins to stay close as long as they were careful. She knew better than anyone how much they needed this reassurance, how much Estelle’s presence meant to them.

As the three of them huddled together, Estelle felt a deep sense of responsibility and love for her siblings. No matter what challenges lay ahead, she knew she had to be strong for them, to protect them in any way she could.

With Lydia’s gentle guidance, Estelle and the twins settled into a more comfortable position. The immediate tension eased as the room filled with quiet murmurs of comfort and reassurance.