(Manuela von Meinhardis POV)

Manuela sat quietly in the infirmary, her head buried in her hands. Though her injuries from the earlier incident were minor, a deep emptiness consumed her. The play, the punch, the confession, it all felt like a cascade of her mistakes. With Fräulein von Bernburg now leaving and her aunt most likely coming to take her home, the weight of it all was overwhelming.

The door creaked open, and Elisabeth von Bernburg, her tall frame casting a long shadow, entered and took a seat beside Manuela’s bed. Her sharp eyes, usually so full of warmth, now held a mix of sternness and concern. Manuela flinched at the intensity of her gaze and refused to meet it.

“You have been very foolish, Manuela” Elisabeth said, her voice stern yet laced with an undercurrent of sadness. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, then let out a heavy sigh. As she took a deep breath, her expression softened, and she reached out, placing a gentle hand on Manuela’s shoulder. “I understand you’re struggling,” she continued, her voice now tender. “But that was never the way to seek solace or express your feelings.” She paused, giving Manuela a moment to absorb her words who kept silent.

"What made you think trying to jump from the top of the staircase was a good idea?" Elisabeth continued when Manuela did not answer, "Would you truly have been so foolish to end your life for a woman half your age? Your teacher at that!"