“Is big sis awake yet?” Vivianne asked, glancing toward Tashia, who was busy attending to the guests gathered for their grandmother’s wake.

Tashia didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted toward the house, where their eldest sister, Sharlene, was resting.

It was almost morning. Vivianne looked tired herself—she had work later, and it was getting harder to stay awake.

“I’ll leave you here, Tashia. You know I have to leave early today,” Vivianne reminded her, adjusting her bag as guests began to trickle out.

Tashia sat down, looking exhausted. “Aren’t you going to take what Ate’s giving you?”

“After the funeral, of course. I need the money,” Vivianne said plainly.

Tashia didn’t push further. Her eyes turned to the coffin and their grandmother’s framed photo.

“Even if we didn’t grow up with Sharlene,” she sighed, “I hope we can still respect her.”

“Are you lecturing me now, Tashia?” Vivianne asked, crossing her arms in irritation.

“No,” Tashia replied softly. “But Mom left her with Dad. And then… we were all just surprised when Dad left her too.”

“That’s because she’s adopted, Tashia. Adopted. I only came out of respect for Grandma.” Vivianne’s tone was sharp.

Tashia didn’t respond, only gave a quiet shrug.

“Don’t forget,” she said finally, meeting Vivianne’s gaze, “because of her, you were able to finish school.”

“Excuse me?” Vivianne snapped. “That’s her responsibility as the eldest, right? And it’s not even her money—it’s her husband’s.”

Tashia just sighed. Without another word, she stood. “Get some rest,” she said simply before walking away.

Vivianne watched her go, frowning, then brushed it off. Sharlene was on leave today—how lucky. Unlike her, Vivianne couldn’t afford to waste time. She had a job to keep.

She was nearing the gate when someone called out to her.

“Vivianne.”

She turned, her brows furrowing.

“Sheila?” she said, recognizing the woman.

Sheila smiled, and standing beside her was Sharlene’s husband—Martin. Vivianne’s eyes darted between them suspiciously.

“You arrived early?” she asked.

“Ah, we were just passing by,” Martin said casually.

“Just passing by?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes.

The two exchanged quick glances. “We happened to be nearby,” Sheila said lightly. “We thought to check in on Sharlene. Condolences to the Rosario family.”

Vivianne didn’t respond. Something about the two of them felt… off. But she didn’t press.

“I’ll go ahead,” she said curtly.

They nodded, and she turned to leave—but her curiosity made her glance back.

They were holding hands. Sheila only let go when they stepped through the gate.

Vivianne raised a brow.

Their married life isn’t my business, she thought coldly. Besides, Sharlene isn’t really my sister.

With that bitter thought, she walked away from the house.

When she arrived home, she dropped her bag on the couch. Her shift was still hours away, so she lay down to rest.

Tashia’s words echoed in her mind.

You finished your studies because of Sis Sharlene.

Vivianne scowled. I know that. You didn’t have to say it.

It was true, though. Because of Sharlene, she had finished school. But after their family fell apart, life became pure survival. Their mother had run off with another man, leaving her and Tashia behind.

Back then, Sharlene was still in college, living with their grandmother. Vivianne used to visit her, asking for money—too ashamed to face Grandma directly.

A part of her had always envied Sharlene’s life. If I hadn’t followed Mom, maybe I’d have had the same chance, she thought.

So she kept asking—for food, for rent, for Tashia’s schooling. Every visit, every errand, every moment she spent helping their ailing grandmother… she made sure Sharlene paid for it.

Not because she was cruel. But because guilt and survival left her no choice.

She sighed deeply, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

She had used Sharlene. And now, she worked herself to the bone, trying to balance that guilt with effort.

Go to sleep, Vivianne, she told herself bitterly. You need to work hard to make up for it, right?

Eventually, her body gave in, and she drifted into a dream.

Darkness surrounded her. Her grandmother appeared, walking slowly—her face full of sorrow.

“Grandma?” Vivianne tried to call out, but her voice was trapped. Her hands were bound by something unseen.

Beside her grandmother stood two other figures—a man and a woman, also bound. Their faces were hidden in shadow.

Then, another figure appeared—a woman seated before them, dressed in a black mourning gown. Her expression was unreadable, but her smile was chillingly playful.

“So… you’re all complete now.”

The woman’s voice echoed, followed by a low, hysterical laugh.

“Be ready… for your karma.”

Vivianne jolted awake. Her heart pounded. Sweat clung to her neck.

What was that dream?

No. It’s just your imagination, Vivianne. Don’t think like that.

She shook her head, trying to shake off the unease.

Then she heard it.

“Vivianne, help me.”

The whisper brushed against her ear.

She froze.

There was no one in the house. She lived alone.

“Help… help, Vivianne. There’s no time left…”

The voice came again—faint, fading, but unmistakable.

Goosebumps rose along her arms. Her breath quickened.

Her grandmother had died peacefully… right?

Or had something else happened?

Was she being haunted?

Her chest tightened.

“Grandma…” she whispered.

The room felt colder than before.

And for the first time that night, Vivianne realized— maybe guilt wasn’t the only thing that had followed her home.