Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

According to the rules, relatives were not allowed to view the process at crematorium.

Supported by the icy steel bed, Sylvia Lloyd paid her way into the crematorium's inner sanctum.

The air was tinged with the scent of burning, intermingled with the ash that danced in the sunlight. Perhaps it was someone's ashes. Soon, her precious daughter would become just that.

Sylvia was clad in a long black dress that barely covered her gaunt frame even in the smallest size, her eyes, swollen and red from crying, now held a serene calm.

She reached out to touch the cold, stiff hand that protruded from beneath the white shroud, and into her daughter's palm, she placed two pink paper stars. "Wait for me, Stella."

Time seemed to stand still until a worker approached, pulling Sylvia away to reveal Stella's face under the shroud.

At eight years old, Stella was frail and thin, her ribcage starkly defined, with a noticeable dip at the bottom.

Sylvia's tears welled up again as she gazed at that dip. She had failed to protect Stella.

The worker, attempting consolation, softly said, "Sorry for your loss. At least your daughter's kidney saved another child, who will now live a happy life in her stead."

A cold flash passed through Sylvia's eyes, a bitter smile forming, "Yes, that child happens to be my husband's illegitimate son. Right now, they're celebrating his grand birthday party. Did you know? Today is also my daughter's birthday." The worker was taken aback, unable to comfort the despairing woman before him.

Looking at Stella, Sylvia forced a pale smile, "Go ahead, let's not delay. I hope my daughter finds a better life next time."

With a sigh and a shake of his head, the worker prepared to move the body to the furnace, perhaps out of sympathy, shielding Sylvia from the process.

But Sylvia wasn't afraid; Stella was finally at peace, no longer despised by her own father.

"Why doesn't Daddy like me, Mommy?"

"Why does Daddy like Ms. Simpson's son?"

"Is Daddy mean to you because of me? I'm sorry, Mommy."

Her precious daughter, destroyed by Rupert Garcia's actions!

Before her birthday, he had promised a trip to the biggest amusement park, a dream day with her father. Instead, he had put her in a surgery room to donate a kidney to his son, leaving her to die alone from an infection.

Sylvia was the last to know, and couldn't forget the moment she charged into the ward, only to find her daughter's lifeless body. The ironic thing was that a blood-stained children's watch lay beside her, dialing her father's number. And yet the only response was a cold, "Stop acting crazy like your mother."

Hearing the busy line, Sylvia had held back tears and hugged her daughter, fearing her sobs would scare her precious child.

In fact, ever since Bridget Simpson returned from abroad with her son, boldly accusing Sylvia of harming them, Rupert had made her a madwoman, the talk of the town.

Especially to think how Rupert stared at her and her daughter when he listened to Bridget's tales of hardship and her son's premature birth with kidney issues. He was the epitome of elegance, yet at the meanwhile he looked extremely fierce and stern. Ignoring Sylvia's pleas, he cursed, "You've harmed Bridget and my son, Sylvia. I'll let you pay double the price."

And so, Rupert had his revenge. Everything ended.

As Sylvia was awakened from her memories, she found herself carrying a pink urn in her hands - Stella's favorite color. The grip on the urn tightened, she said, "Let's go home, Stella."

The wind lifted her dress, a sorrowful figure beneath the sun's gaze.

...

Returning to the marital home she shared with Rupert, Sylvia tidied her daughter's belongings, and then sat holding the urn until evening.

A parking sound came from outside. Soon, a sharp, black figure walked in; it was Rupert. Eight years passed, and his presence was as imposing and magnetic as the day they met.