NYLA stepped into the warmth of Ayelen's home, her voice barely a whisper as it broke the silence of the hallway. "Hey... Ayelen."
The moment her eyes landed on him, the world around her seemed to bleed away. The light of the hallway dimmed, replaced by the suffocating darkness of a memory she had tried so hard to bury.
In her mind, she was back there. The air was cold and smelled of damp concrete. She saw herself standing on the edge, her heart heavy with a weight she could no longer carry. She had been ready to end it all, to let the darkness take her. But just as she reached the point of no return, two shadows shifted in the gloom behind her.
They were tall, faceless figures draped in the dark, but their expressions were unmistakable. They wore wide, jagged smiles that looked more like tears in reality than human expressions. They didn't stop her. They just watched, their presence oozing a creepy, silent joy at her despair.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor snapped her back to the present.
Ayelen, Arnold, Nyla, Miyara, Lor, and Reiane were all gathered around the dining table. Plates of food sat before them, but the usual sounds of clinking silverware and light laughter were missing. The atmosphere was thick and suffocating.
Everyone was looking at Nyla. Their eyes weren't filled with the warmth of a homecoming, but with a sharp, stinging disappointment. It felt like a physical weight pressing down on her shoulders.
A single tear escaped Nyla's eye, rolling down her pale cheek. Then came another. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but the sob caught anyway.
Reiane noticed first. His expression softened instantly. Without a word, he reached over and gently wiped the salt from her face with his thumb. He leaned in, pulling her into a protective hug, shielding her from the harsh gazes of the others.
"Stop staring at her like that," Reiane said, his voice firm as he looked around the table.
Arnold, however, remained unmoved. He sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on his plate. He wasn't looking at Nyla with anger, but with a deep, unsettling suspicion. There was a question burning in his mind, a piece of the puzzle that didn't fit, but he kept his lips sealed for now.
The silence stretched until it became unbearable. Finally, Lor broke it. His voice was laced with a mix of hurt and confusion. "Why did you do that, Nyla? Why did you try to kill yourself?"
Nyla took a shaky, deep breath, her hands trembling under the table. She pulled back from the hug and looked Lor in the eye.
"Because I'm done with this life," she whispered, her voice cracking. "First, you all misunderstood me. You turned your backs on me when I needed you most. And then... then you actually accused me of killing Ayelen. How was I supposed to live with that?"
The room went deathly quiet. The guilt in the room became almost visible.
Suddenly, Arnold pushed his chair back and stood up. The wooden legs screeched against the floorboards.
"I'm done eating," he said. His voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. He didn't look at anyone as he turned and walked away toward his room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Miyara leaned toward Ayelen, her eyes following Arnold's retreating figure. "What happened to that uncle?" she whispered, her voice full of genuine confusion at Arnold's icy behavior.
Ayelen didn't have an answer. He just watched the doorway.
Across the table, the tension finally began to break. Lor and Reiane looked at each other, then back at Nyla. The realization of what they had put her through finally sank in.
"Nyla... we're so sorry," Lor said softly. "We were wrong to doubt you. We were just so scared for Ayelen that we stopped thinking clearly."
Reiane nodded in agreement, his hand resting comfortingly on hers.
Nyla managed a faint, weary smile. She reached down beside her chair and pulled up a few neatly wrapped packages. "It's okay. I brought gifts... especially for my sweet brother, Ayelen."
The mood softened slightly as she handed the gifts over. The dark clouds hadn't fully vanished, but for a moment, the heavy pressure in the air eased.
Meanwhile, in the darkness of his room, Arnold sat on the edge of his bed. His face was a mask of intense concentration. He wasn't thinking about the dinner or the apologies. He was thinking about the gaps in the story, the timing, the things that weren't being said. Something was bothering him deep in his gut, a feeling that the danger wasn't over yet.
The next day arrived with a different kind of tension. The air in the arena was electric, buzzing with the cheers of the crowd and the smell of dust and sweat.
The semi-final match was about to begin.
Rim vs Arnold.
Both fighters stood in the center of the arena, facing each other. There was no fear in their eyes, only a raw, primal excitement. Their muscles were coiled like springs, ready to explode at the first signal.
Up in the high stands, a lone figure watched from the shadows.
It was Maisen, the tournament finalist. He stood perfectly still, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were locked onto Arnold, tracking every shift in his stance, every breath he took. He wasn't just watching a match; he was studying his prey.
Arnold felt the weight of that gaze. He didn't look up into the stands, but a slight, confident smile played on his lips. He knew he was being watched. He knew what was at stake.
The referee raised his hand. The crowd went silent, the anticipation reaching a breaking point.
BONG!
The bell rang.
MATCH STARTS!!
• EPISODE 3 ENDS •