Steven Universe: Broken Peridot.

Connie spent most of her time staring at people, thinking about their actions, beliefs, and lifestyles.

Maybe because of her introverted nature, she always had plenty of time to look around while most people were distracted by their cell phones.

Due to her unintentional habit of observing people, she had polished her skill in creating profiles for them.

Her mother valued work and organization, and her stern eyes and starched clothes were clear signs of this.

Her father valued tradition and stability. He always wore the same collection of clothes, with rare exceptions, and would always sacrifice himself to keep things right.

The way people talk, dress, and act reveals more about them than what they say with words.

Everyone reveals traces of themselves instinctively, without exception.

But among all the people she had observed until now, one person was the exception to this rule.

An unpredictable and unreadable person—her adopted sister.

Her face didn't show a single trace of emotion, and her eyes were as empty as a doll's. She often ignored Connie, as if she didn't exist, diving into other activities.

She always used the most condensed and shortest words in communication.

Asha would always remain calm no matter the situation. Even when Connie was caught hugging her, Asha never brought up the topic or even commented on it in front of her.

At first, Connie thought this was her way of showing consideration, but as time passed, a new thought started to replace this idea.

It wasn't consideration or gentleness.

She simply didn't care.

As though even the most basic emotions weren't present.

Of course, Connie knew how offensive her thoughts were and tried to deny them.

But the more she stared, the harder it became to dismiss the consideration.

Asha woke up every day at the same time, ate tasteless food without a frown, read the same books, watched the same series, and spent her time on the same activities.

She never looked sad or happy.

She was like a river without turbulence.

And that was why the situation in front of her was so unbelievable.

Asha, who always followed the same pattern, had, for the first time, acted out of script. But the moment it happened, a tragedy followed.

Connie looked at the bloodied wrist, marked by self-harm, with anxiety.

"Why?"

Why would Asha hurt herself to this extent?

When she looked into her empty eyes, not a single answer seemed to come from them.

Asha was completely silent.

She didn't try to hide it or make excuses. She just sat there, unmoving, as always.

Connie felt suffocated looking at her. She had never seen so much blood in her life. Asha's condition was probably critical.

If she didn't act, the consequences could be serious.

But what made her even more anxious wasn't the blood—it was Asha's attitude.

"...How can you endure it?"

If it were her, Connie would be crying, agonizing over the pain, but Asha simply accepted it as if she was used to it.

Suddenly, her mother's words came to mind.

Asha was a child who had been through many bad experiences.

Her mother never told her what those "bad experiences" were. Connie could only imagine she had suffered bullying or had terrible parents.

But what must someone go through to be able to cut themselves without hesitation or even show a trace of pain?

She couldn't even imagine it. It was so far from her reality.

But one thing was certain—this wasn't something a person without emotions would do.

That was an act only someone who had endured even greater pain could commit.

Considering the amount of blood, Asha had probably been there for a long time.

Suddenly, a hypothesis began to form in her mind.

'Was she waiting for me?'

After they read a book together, Asha would usually leave to color drawings or watch TV.

But this time, Connie hadn't been there to read with her.

And that one variable resulted in the scene before her.

'Is it... my fault?'

If she had stayed in the room instead of sneaking out, she could have prevented this.

It was her fault that things had come to this, even after her mother's warning.

Connie found herself in a spiral of guilt and fear.

But the more time she wasted in shock, the more blood leaked from Asha's wrist.

"Mom..." A barely audible whisper escaped her lips.

Amidst a situation she couldn't understand, the only thing she could think of was her mother.

She was a doctor. Everything would be fine as long as she was there.

Such thoughts crossed her mind as Connie tried to convince herself to act.

As an option unfolded in her mind, the sensation in her legs became more present.

Without hesitation, Connie turned toward the door and, with all the strength she could muster, cried out for help.

"Mom!"

*

Bright stars could be seen through the window.

Priyanka felt the night air gently touch her skin as the scent of tea graced her nostrils.

'It's peaceful...'

Unlike the busy routine at the hospital and the constant demands of her household, for the first time, her home felt comfortable.

Priyanka never allowed herself to relax, no matter if it was a weekend, holiday, or vacation.

If she had time, she would use it—whether for work or family.

That was why simple things like appreciating the night sky weren't common for her.

Since Priyanka had started supporting Asha at home and paying more attention to her surroundings, she realized how many of these small moments she had missed.

She had been so burdened with worries that it felt like the whole world was on her shoulders. But for the first time in a while, she felt light.

Asha, the child she had adopted, played a crucial role in that.

From the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep, it felt like her heart softened more and more.

Asha had appeared out of nowhere, full of wounds, in front of the hospital, in a critical state.

Her body was cold, and her heart barely moved. She had been practically a corpse at that point.

Yet, by some miracle, she had survived.

The girl was like a blank slate, devoid of movement or emotion.

Her condition clearly indicated severe abuse, yet despite everything, she still preserved her gentle nature.

At some point, Priyanka had begun spending all her free time caring for her.

While Asha seemed peaceful and quiet, the moment she was left alone, traces of her trauma would surface.

Like the time she tried to jump from a window or when she drew strange images in her notebook.

Even though she was supposedly suffering from amnesia, her traumas remained.

What she had endured at the hands of inhumane people sent chills through Priyanka every night.

The fact that Asha was still willing to communicate with others was a miracle.

But Priyanka sensed that the moment she was left alone, she would have no one to support her.

Without documents, there would be no government protection. The moment she left the hospital, she would be beyond its reach.

'Fortunately, things didn't turn out that way.'

Priyanka had adopted Asha and brought her home.

Aside from her nightmares, Asha had adapted well to the changes and even formed a bond with Connie.

This was the first step toward reintegrating her into society and giving her the opportunity to live like anyone else.

The more time Priyanka spent with Asha, the harder it was to believe how she had been treated so terribly.

Every morning, she would wake up to two pairs of curious green eyes and small fingers poking her face.

The sight was cute enough to soften even her worst morning mood.

Her body seemed to fit every outfit Priyanka bought her, to the point that she had to restrain herself from buying every single piece of clothing she saw.

Her face held both maturity and innocence, making Priyanka worry about how society would accept her.

For two weeks, Priyanka had greedily kept Asha in her home under the excuse of helping her adapt.

But now, she had no excuse.

Perhaps it was time to contact the school.

Before she could think further, a desperate voice shattered her peaceful thoughts.

"Mom!"

The loud voice of her daughter echoed in the room carrying panic.

When Priyanka turned her body in her direction she could see Connie running with a desperate expression and blood in her hands.

"Crack!"

The sound of the cup hitting the floor echoed through the room as Priyanka quickly ran toward Connie.

"Are you hurt?!"

She grabbed Connie's hand, which was covered in blood, checking for any cuts.

"No, not me...! B-But!"

"Calm down, take a deep breath."

With a solemn expression, Priyanka placed a hand on Connie's back, trying to soothe her.

Connie did as she was told, inhaling deeply, but her expression remained tense.

"Asha... S-She got hurt!"

"!"

"The room. Blood... So much blood!" She pointed toward the room she had come from, drops of blood scattered along her path.

Priyanka could barely contain her shock, but before she could fully process her daughter's words, her legs were already moving.

She rushed to the kitchen cupboard, retrieving the first aid kit along with some more sophisticated medical supplies.

Even in a sudden crisis, she made the most rational decision.

Connie's words weren't "she felt sick" but "she got hurt". That meant the bleeding wasn't from an internal issue but an external injury—a burn or a cut.

"Connie, call your father!"

"Y-Yes!"

Priyanka dashed toward the room, her mind racing.

The sound of her hurried footsteps echoed loudly.

All she could think about was Asha's condition.

When she finally reached the door, she flung it open without restraint.

"Asha—!"

Her voice broke under the weight of her panic. But the moment her eyes took in the scene before her, she froze.

Inside the room, Asha sat peacefully in her wheelchair, bathed in moonlight, a book in her hands.

It was a sight worthy of a painting—calm, serene, and completely different from what Priyanka had imagined.

There was no blood, no sign of distress. Just a girl enjoying her time alone.

"...Asha?"

Priyanka approached slowly, scanning her from head to toe.

Noticing her mother's presence, Asha paused her reading and gazed up innocently.

She opened her notebook with one hand and wrote something.

[Dinner time?]

A simple question, as if nothing had happened.

Just that sight alone was enough for Priyanka's pale face to regain some color.

"It was a false alarm..." she murmured in relief, patting Asha's head instinctively, trying to calm herself.

Asha accepted the touch without complaint.

Just as Priyanka finally regained her composure, Asha wrote again.

[Are you okay?]

A question of concern—directed at her.

Priyanka looked at the words, momentarily embarrassed. But before she could respond, something caught her eye.

A utility knife on the floor, lying beside the bed.

She picked it up, her expression turning serious.

There wasn't as much blood as on Connie's hand, but traces remained on the blade.

Asha watched her silently, her face as unreadable as ever.

Throughout this entire exchange, Asha had been using only one hand to write, resting the notebook in her lap.

It was only now that Priyanka realized—by the angle they were standing, she hadn't seen Asha's other arm.

As Priyanka's gaze shifted, trying to catch sight of it, Asha subtly adjusted her notebook, blocking her view.

To an outsider, the movement was casual, unremarkable. But to Priyanka—who was both observant and instinctively cautious—it was a clear attempt to hide something.

Without hesitation, Priyanka grabbed Asha's arm.

Asha flinched in surprise, trying to pull back, but it was too late.

The wound she had desperately tried to conceal was already exposed. A deep, clean cut ran along her wrist, with small drops of blood trailing down beside the wheelchair.

For a moment, Priyanka forgot to breathe.

Then, without a word, she moved swiftly to disinfect the wound and apply first aid.

"..."

Neither of them spoke during the process, but the atmosphere in the room had noticeably shifted.

Once the wound was treated and a bandage securely wrapped around it, the silence finally broke.

[Why did you cut yourself?]

A direct question, with no room for evasion.

Asha stared at the page solemnly before responding with careful strokes of her pen.

[I'm sorry.]

It was a sincere apology. But it wasn't the answer Priyanka wanted.

[Are you feeling unwell?]

[No.]

[Then why did you cut yourself?]

[I'm sorry.]

Each time Priyanka pressed for an explanation, Asha gave the same response. It was as if she was unwilling—or unable—to say more.

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

Priyanka didn't react with anger or frustration. Instead, she seemed deep in thought.

But even though no words were spoken, her resolve was clear. She wouldn't leave until she got a real answer.

Faced with this silent standoff, even Asha—who was both deaf and mute—felt trapped.

She had done her best to clean up all the evidence before Priyanka arrived, but because of one small mistake, everything had unraveled.

The reason she kept apologizing wasn't out of fear. She simply didn't know what else to say.

What could she possibly tell Priyanka? "I was just curious about blood, so I cut myself a little"?

If someone said that to her, she would give them a very strange look.

No one in their right mind would do something like that.

That was why Asha insisted on apologizing instead.

[You know you can be honest with me, don't you?]

[Yes.]

[I won't get mad. I just want to know the truth.]

[I...]

Asha stared at the blank page. What should she say here?

No matter what answer she gave, it felt like it would only make things worse.

If she refused to explain, Priyanka would keep pressing for an answer.

The only way out of this situation was to come up with something convincing enough to satisfy her.

In the end, Asha decided to mix truth with lies.

[It was an experiment.]

The moment she wrote that word, Priyanka's full attention locked onto the page.

[What kind of experiment?]

[Regeneration test.]

Priyanka's expression darkened. Whatever she was thinking, it clearly wasn't good.

[Who taught you that?]

Her eyes sharpened dangerously as if she were ready to kill someone.

What would happen if Asha admitted it was her own idea?

If she said she had thought of it completely on her own, Priyanka would become even more watchful.

But maybe it was already too late.

No matter what answer she gave now, she was walking a tightrope.

Under Priyanka's piercing gaze, Asha hesitated.

Out of all the possible excuses, none seemed convincing enough. So she simply wrote the first thing that came to mind.

[I don't know.]

It was the worst possible answer she could have given.

Asha closed her eyes, bracing herself for whatever consequences would come next.

What Asha didn't expect was that her nonchalant response would have such drastic effects on Priyanka.

*

Author note

This was a long chapter after a while. I'm sorry for being so late every time. I tried to write different things this week but even in those experimental books I barely could write something bigger than 7k characters.

The fact that this chapter topped 15k words is a miracle in itself. It was like a complete rollercoaster for me.

I hope you enjoy it.