Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

And as slighting as before.

Rupert walked past her, not giving her a second glance as he made his way upstairs.

Minutes later, he descended, having slipped into one of the suits he had cherished for years. It was a suit specially designed for him by Bridget when they got engaged. Yet, Rupert still didn't look Sylvia's way.

For eight years, he had treated her with such cold indifference. Once he had intended to torment her, he'd pin her down, releasing his desire before leaving without giving her another look.

And as for their daughter...

He had even forbidden Stella from calling him dad.

Perhaps it was Sylvia's unusual silence that day that made Rupert pause, though he didn't turn around, "I won't be home tonight. Tell Stella not to call me for any reason." "Okay."

Sylvia caressed the urn that seemed to still carry Stella's warmth. If only he had looked at her, even just for a second, he might have noticed it.

As Rupert adjusted his cufflinks, he spoke with detachment, "Think about what you want in the divorce. We'll get the paperwork done in a few days. I don't want the kid." "Okay."

Sylvia remained calm, comforted by the thought that Stella would now be hers alone.

Rupert's hand faltered for a moment, but he didn't give Sylvia his attention, "Considering Stella saved Rufus, I'll cover all the medical and nutritional expenses. But I don't want to see you again. Consider this your final atonement." "Okay."

Sylvia thought to herself, indeed, they would never see each other again soon.

Rupert, feeling an inexplicable irritation, turned to leave when his phone rang.

Bridget was on the other end, and when the call went through, the room was filled with the happy shouts of a child.

"Dad! Hurry up! Mom and I are waiting for you."

"I'm on my way."

Rupert's voice lifted, his steps quickening, completely unaware of the woman behind him clutching something tightly, her body stiffening by the moment.

As the moonlight fell, Sylvia took out a birthday cake she had ordered for Stella from the fridge earlier. She lit the birthday candles.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..."

She sang as she doused the surroundings with gasoline, from the top floor to the bottom, sparing no corner. She had no intentions of sparing herself either.

If only she had been stronger back then and refused to marry Rupert, any of this wouldn't have happened.

Once everything was set, she sat back at the dining table, holding the urn close.

"Happy Birthday, Stella. Wait for me."

Sylvia threw the birthday candle towards the curtains.

...

At the party, Rupert made a grand entrance with Bridget and her son. The crowd praised their seemingly perfect happiness through toasting, with some even badmouthing Sylvia. Only Rupert's friend, a doctor, seemed concerned, and frowned, he quickly approached Rupert.

"Mr. Garcia, I'm sorry, but please, accept my condolences."

"What do you mean?"

"Your daughter...she died from a post-surgery infection. Mrs. Garcia took her to the mortuary house today."

"How much did Sylvia pay you?" Rupert lifted his glass and sipped his drink emotionlessly.

"Didn't I already send you the death certificate? You said you received it."

Bridget clutched her son's hand nervously at that moment. Then, Rupert's phone rang.

"Mr. Garcia, your mansion is on fire."

Rupert's glass fell to the floor as he rushed out, not knowing how fast he drove until he reached the mansion. The sight of the blazing fire stabbed him like a knife to the heart.

Through the falling curtains, he saw Sylvia sitting in front of the birthday cake and the urn in her arms, smiling at him like the first time they met.

"Goodbye, I hate you. If only I could start over..."

Before she could finish, the house collapsed.

Perhaps it was a final illusion, but Sylvia thought she saw Rupert kneeling down.

Never mind.

Stella was there to meet her.

"Mommy, Mommy."

...

The afternoon sun blazed down on the Garcia Manor, where the atmosphere was as tense as if it were on fire.

The sound of a cup shattering on the floor, the piercing pain from the shards cutting through the skin awoke Sylvia instantly. She was kneeling in the center of the hall, looking around blankly at the gathered crowd. What was this?