'Medical Test Results'
That was what was written in bold at the top of the paper Cynthia was holding. The torn envelope she took the paper out of was left on the ground at her feet, and her hands trembled a little as she started reading, all signs pointing at her nervousness and agitation.
Cynthia's cold face made it difficult to associate her with the subtly trembling hands she was forcefully steadying. But as she finished reading the document, her hands lost control, this time even more obviously, and her cold facade cracked, letting something like relief, but not quite, seep through to the surface despite her loathing toward any weakness.
The emotion Cynthia felt washed over her, seemingly a small consolation, a silver lining after the suffocating darkness, if it could be called like that, the torment she had been living in ever since the funeral of her mother.
