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Estella was escorted into an elegant room by a pair of Peacekeepers who soon retreated and stood guard at the door. She sat on a velvet couch, hands folded in her lap, waiting in silence, fully aware that this might be her last visit from any family or friends—a brief goodbye lasting only three minutes.
She doubted Mrs. William would come, and if Susan didn't appear, Estella knew it would be because her mother hadn't allowed her. The only person Estella truly hoped would show up was Mr. William. And, as if her silent prayers had been heard, the man entered with a look of transparent distress, immediately pulling her into a crushing hug just as the guard at the door announced, "Three minutes."
Mr. William buried his face in her shoulder, tears soaking into her dress. "I'm okay. I'm going to be fine," Estella murmured softly, trying to soothe him. Mr. William sniffled as he stepped back to get a proper look at her, and she gave him a small spin, earning back his usual sparkling grin. He held onto her smaller hands, gently swinging them as he met her eyes with a question heavy with emotion: "How could I ever repay you?"
Estella smiled at the sentiment but shook her head firmly. "No. You took me in, showed me what it meant to have a sister, and gave me a chance to see the world differently." Her voice, which started mellow with a soft snicker, turned solemn and grounded as she tightened her grip on his rough hands, her tone changing as she spoke of Susan. "Just promise me you'll focus more on your family. Susan needs her father."
Mr. William nodded, absorbing the weight of her words. "I'll pray for you. Your parents are watching too. Just believe in yourself. Trust yourself—you can get through this." He reached into his pocket and placed something in her palm, closing her fingers around it without a word. Estella looked puzzled, but before she could question it, the guard stepped in and pulled Mr. William away.
She waved goodbye with a bright smile, keeping up her confident act until the door clicked shut and the guards' steps faded. Only then did she let the mask slip, collapsing onto the velvet couch as her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. Her mind churned through everything she had done, every step that had led her here.
But the small object in her hand shifted her attention. Rather than break down, she focused on it—an old, folded piece of paper.
Carefully unfolding it, she found a photograph. Her parents were beaming proudly, her father holding her high over his shoulder while her mother clung to her legs to keep her from falling. Estella must have been about nine—a year before their deaths. The image radiated warmth and happiness, a perfect capture of a time now lost.
She stared at it for a long moment, then whispered, "I can do it. What are the odds I'll die...?" Silence followed before she bumped her head against the wall, snapping herself back to reality. "High, really high." She sighed, as if resigning herself to accept her fate rather than succumb to the fear of dying.
