The next evening, Mathew and I returned to my parents' home together.

We rode in silence. Only when we arrived and I opened the car door did he call out, "Crystal."


I didn't turn around, just walked to the front door and knocked.

My adoptive parents greeted us, but their eyes slid away from Mathew.

"Dad, Mom, we're here."


Though aging, my parents' faces showed the refined calm of lifelong academics rather than the wear of years.

Still, they'd changed since I first met them.


I was nine then. Mathew was seven.

When my future parents arrived at the orphanage, Mathew stood behind me, clutching a board game.

I asked him, "Want to play?"

He didn't speak, just nodded.

I laughed. "You have to speak up. How will anyone know what you want if you don't say anything?"

Mathew remained silent, but as I reached for the game, he looked away with a smile.

I followed his gaze to some children I used to play with. Since Mathew started following me everywhere, they'd kept their distance.

I waved at them, hoping they'd join us, but they backed away and ran.

Behind me, Mathew grabbed my wrist. "Let's go."

My future parents witnessed this. I don't know what they said to the director, but at our next meeting, she told me they would be my new parents.

I was overjoyed and reached for their hands, but Mathew gripped mine tightly.

The director hesitated. "He's been unusually attached to Crystal since he arrived. I'm afraid he won't let her go. Perhaps you might..."

We all understood her unspoken suggestion.

But my future parents declined with gentle smiles.

That day, I went home with the Byrnes and took their surname.

I felt a twinge of sadness about leaving Mathew, but mostly excitement about my new life.

I never expected Mathew to show up at our doorstep that very midnight.

...

After dinner, Dad set down his napkin. "Mathew, a word in my study, please."

Mathew set down his chopsticks, expressionless. He glanced at me briefly before following Dad into the study.

Mom stopped me as I reached for the dishes. "Crystal, come sit with me."

Her tone was gentle but brooked no argument.

I sat beside her, straining to hear any sounds from the study.

Mom asked disjointed questions about my work, her eyes repeatedly darting to the closed study door.

Until—*CRASH!*

A muffled shattering sound came through the door—glass breaking violently.

My heart lurched. I nearly jumped to my feet.

Mom gripped my hand tighter, her lips trembling silently.

I don't know how long we waited before the study door opened and Mathew emerged.

His face was ashen, blood trickling from a cut on his temple. I tried to stand, but Mom held me firmly in place.

"Mom?"

I turned to see her eyes filled with sorrow.

In that moment, I realized they might have known all along.

Known about Mathew's feelings for me—feelings that went far beyond brotherly, obsessive to the point of terrifying.

Four years ago, right after his college entrance exams, Mathew suddenly announced he was going abroad.

I'd asked my parents about it—wasn't he supposed to apply to my university so we could look after each other? Why the sudden change?

They only said it was Mathew's decision, and they respected his wishes.

Later, I asked Mathew directly if he really wanted to leave.

He didn't answer, just looked at me with that faint smile of his.

"Sister, wait for me to return."

He never called me "sister," but that day, he did.

My hand twitched involuntarily.

Lost in memory, I hadn't noticed Mathew approach. Blood trailed down his arm, stark against his pale skin.

He ignored it completely, extending his hand with a slight smile. "Crystal, come with me."

Mom's grip tightened on my hand, trembling.

I sighed and handed him tissues from the coffee table. "Mom wants me to stay with her tonight. You should go back alone."

"Heh..."

Mathew's smile widened, sending chills down my spine.

"Fine. I'll wait for you," he said.

I heard him say.