With tears streaming down her cold red cheeks, she walked in the chilly evening. She never thought that Sebastian would react like this just for a locket.

But she doesn't even have any proof to prove her innocence either. Even she is wondering when and how that locket came in the hall when she thoroughly cleaned the whole house herself.

She is not a thief, and this accusation is killing her.

Wiping her tears, Isabella waited for the bus on that cold winter evening. But before the bus arrived, Nancy's car stopped near the bus stop.

Seeing Nancy, the tears Isabella had been holding back started to flow again.

"I didn't steal it. I swear, I don't know how that pendant ended up in the hall. It wasn't there when I was cleaning," Isabella said through her sobs the moment Nancy came to her.

More than losing her job, what hurt her most was that Sebastian thought she was a thief.

Nancy felt terrible seeing Isabella in this condition, but what could she do? After all, she was just an employee of Sebastian's too, and she was there only to settle Isabella's account as per Sebastian's instructions.

Yes, after firing Isabella, he called Nancy to clear her accounts ASAP. Nancy wanted to argue with him and ask him why he had done this, but she also knew how sensitive this matter is for him. That locket isn't just a locket for him. It's his hope that made him live all these years.

Nancy hesitated before handing over the money, guilt weighing heavily on her. She extended an envelope toward Isabella.

"This is for the days you worked. Seb wanted me to give it to you," Nancy said softly, unable to meet Isabella's tear-filled eyes.

Isabella sniffled and took the envelope with trembling hands, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you..."

Nancy watched as Isabella turned away, clutching the envelope tightly to her chest because Nancy's silence gave her the answer that Nancy thinks the same as Sebastian, but the reality was something else.

Nancy wanted to say something, offer comfort, but the words died on her lips. Instead, she got back into her car and drove away to confront Sebastian, leaving Isabella to walk home in the biting cold.

Meanwhile, in his house, Sebastian paced his study, unable to shake the look on Isabella's face when she left. Her tears, her trembling voice, her earnest attempt to explain, it all haunted him. The locket rested on the desk, mocking him, its polished surface reflecting his mistake.

He sank into his chair, running a hand over his face. What if she was telling the truth? What if I... wronged her? The thought gnawed at him, but his pride wouldn't let him admit it so easily. He saw it with his own eyes.

Nancy knocked hesitantly at the door, stepping inside with a worried look. "Seb, are you okay?"

Sebastian glanced at her but said nothing.

"You were really harsh on Isabella," Nancy said cautiously. "She's worked so hard for you, for Christmas especially. Maybe you should've given her a chance to explain."

"I don't need a lecture, Nancy," he snapped, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

"Just think about it because this necklace is a resemblance of someone's kindness to you, but you accuse an innocent, Seb. My heart is not ready to admit that she could do something like this," Nancy said softly, leaving him to wrestle with his guilt.

"She said she didn't find it." He finally spoke, and Nancy halted in her tracks. "But she has it. She lied. You said it yourself that she was in dire need of money. She saw it and maybe her...."

"Sebastian, not everything you see with your eyes or hear with your ears is true." Nancy interrupted him and walked away, leaving him drowning in his thoughts.

On the other hand, Isabella quickened her pace as she neared her apartment, the bitter chill in the air cutting through her thin coat. She clutched the envelope of money tightly, her only lifeline after the disastrous events of the day. It's Christmas season, and she is jobless and hopeless again.

She is worried about how to pay the rest of the dues to Mrs. Johnson and how to find a new job in this holiday season.

As she turned the corner to her building, a figure emerged from the shadows.

"Well, look who's walking home all alone," Stella, her stepsister, sneered, blocking Isabella's path. "Where have you been since last month? I was trying to reach you. Why weren't you answering my calls, and you were not even home whenever I visited you?"

On its own, her fists tightened around the coat underneath where her payment envelope was. Her heart started pounding inside her chest in fear of losing everything.

"Stella, not now," Isabella said wearily, trying to sidestep her.

"Did you find a new job?" Stella asked mockingly, but when her eyes caught her clenched fists, Stella's eyes zeroed in on the envelope Isabella held. "What's that? Payment for playing the victim again? Let me see."

"Leave me alone," Isabella snapped, stepping back. That's the last of her hope, and she can't let Stella take it away like every time.

But Stella wasn't about to give up. She lunged for the envelope, grabbing at it with one hand while shoving Isabella with the other.

"Let go!" Isabella cried, struggling to keep her grip.

"Why should you get to keep anything while I get nothing?" Stella hissed, pulling harder.

"You ruined everything and lost whatever you had. It's your fault. Not mine." Isabella tried to fight, but to whom was she kidding? Her petite form can't stand against Stella.

The two women grappled, stumbling onto the cold pavement. Isabella's thin gloves provided no traction as Stella wrenched the envelope out of her hands.

"You don't need this," Stella said mockingly, waving the envelope in the air.

"Give it back!" Isabella shouted, desperation giving her strength. She grabbed Stella's arm and tried to wrestle the envelope away.

But Stella was stronger. With a sharp shove, she threw Isabella off balance. Isabella fell hard, her elbows scraping against the rough ground, leaving scratches behind.

"Stay down if you know what's good for you," Stella warned, her voice dripping with malice.

But Isabella wasn't ready to give up. Fueled by anger and desperation, she scrambled to her feet and lunged at Stella, grabbing her coat.

"Give it back, Stella! I earned it."

Stella snarled and retaliated, striking Isabella across the face with the back of her hand. The blow sent Isabella reeling, her cheek stinging as tears welled in her eyes. Before she could recover, Stella shoved her again, harder this time.

Isabella hit the ground with a thud, her body aching from the impact. Stella stood over her, clutching the envelope triumphantly.

"Maybe next time, you'll learn to stay out of my way," Stella spat, turning on her heel and walking off into the night.

Isabella lay there for a moment, pain radiating through her body. Her hands trembled as she touched her bruised cheek, her vision blurred from the tears she refused to let fall. Slowly, she pulled herself up, battered and broken, and stumbled toward her apartment.

But as she approached, her landlady was already waiting, her arms crossed and a cold smirk on her lips as she had watched everything already.

"You look like a mess," Mrs. Johnson said with no hint of sympathy. "And now you've got no money, do you?"

Isabella didn't even have the strength to argue. She knew what was coming.

"Sorry, young lady. I have warned you already. No money, no staying," the landlady continued. "I don't want freeloaders in my building."

With nowhere else to go, Isabella nodded weakly and tried to get inside to pack her belongings, but Mrs. Johnson didn't let her.

"You haven't paid the rent, so I'll sell off all your old junk to cover my losses," Mrs. Johnson said, blocking her way.

Hearing these words, Isabella's tear-filled eyes widened in shock, and the ground beneath her seemed to crumble.

"No, Mrs. Johnson. You can't do that. All I have left are my mother's last belongings," Isabella pleaded, crying and begging. But it was as if Mrs. Johnson had turned deaf, unaffected by her desperate pleas.

Mrs. Johnson grabbed her by the arm, pushed her outside, and slammed the door in her face.

Isabella stood there sobbing, banging on the door and begging for mercy, but it didn't open.

Breaking down at her misfortune, she slumped down on the cold pavement.

She wondered how someone's life could turn so cruel. In just a few hours, she had been branded a thief, fired from her job, robbed twice of her belongings, and now left homeless.

Isabella felt the world crumble around her. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, she sank to the ground, clutching her arms to shield herself from the icy wind that seemed to mirror her despair, her bruises throbbing as the cold wind bit at her skin, and she hugged herself, trying to fight against the cold winds, but that was of no use.

Now she can clearly feel the pain that Sebastian must have felt years ago, and now she completely understands his reaction as to why that mere chain was so important to him.

She wasn't able to believe her eyes when she saw her pendant in his house lying on the floor that she gave away to a beggar boy on Christmas Eve years ago. She was wondering, looking at it after years, trying to figure out when Sebastian came and tagged her as a thief.

Now, she understood why those gray-blue eyes looked so familiar because he is the same beggar boy she helped once. She is so happy for him that he made it too far.

Even in her misery, she is happy for that poor boy, who now is a reputed man in this society.

She recognized the pendant and then Sebastian as well but still chose to shut her mouth.

Why?

She thought maybe he would think that she was making up a story, or maybe it was shame or embarrassment. She doesn't know. The first thought that came to her mind was what he would think of her, that the girl who once helped him was now doing such a job for leaving.

Isabella sat trembling in the biting cold, her tears freezing on her cheeks. She hugged herself tightly, her mother's scarf, the only thing she has to herself now. She wrapped it around her shoulders. The streets were silent, except for the distant sound of a clock striking midnight.

Suddenly, the door flung open, and hope beamed in her tearful eyes but only to crumble that again.

"You can't sit here and create a scene. Leave Isabella, or I have to call the cops." Mrs. Johnson warned and shut the door.

Isabella closed her eyes, and more tears rolled down her bruised cheeks. With great difficulty she managed to walk away with her freezing feet and sat under the Christmas tree of the town square.

"Why God? Why? I have never done anything bad to anyone, then why is it always me?" She sobbed while hugging her knees, sitting on the cold, snowy floor.

She was scared and all alone at night. The whole night she was awake and crying. The next morning she tried to find a job, but nothing worked.

The whole time she was walking with an empty stomach, and now she had no strength to even move.

She sat on the side of the road as she had no more strength to walk. She is hungry, and the aroma of fresh-baked breads, cookies, and pastries made her stomach crumble with hunger.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the town square lit up with twinkling lights and festive decorations. The joyous laughter of families and couples filled the air, mingling with the carols being sung by a nearby choir. The aroma of roasted chestnuts and sweet cinnamon wafted through the air, tantalizing Isabella's senses and making her stomach clench painfully.

She pulled her coat tighter around her frail body, though it did little to shield her from the biting cold. Sitting on the pavement, she watched as children tugged on their parents' hands, pointing excitedly at brightly wrapped gifts in shop windows, and she missed her parents even more. Couples strolled by, sharing warm drinks and smiles, their happiness piercing her loneliness like a dagger. The betrayal of her only boyfriend still stung with the same pain even after years.

Her eyes welled up again as she thought back to that Christmas Eve years ago. She had been so full of hope then, so eager to help a starving boy who had nothing. She remembered how he had looked at her, wide-eyed and grateful, clutching the pendant she had given him along with some money. She had felt proud that night, believing she had made a difference.

But now, here she was, in the same desperate situation as that boy had been. Sebastian. At least now she knows his name.

No one spared her a glance; she was invisible to the bustling crowd, a mere shadow on the edge of their happiness.

As she sat there, lost in her thoughts, a little girl in a red coat skipped past her, holding a large gingerbread cookie. The child stopped suddenly and turned to look at Isabella. Their eyes met, innocent curiosity in the girl's gaze, weary despair in Isabella's.

The girl hesitated, then broke her cookie in half and handed a piece to Isabella. "Merry Christmas," she said softly before running back to her parents.

Isabella stared at the cookie in her trembling hands, her vision blurred by tears. The simple act of kindness warmed her heart more than she could express. She took a small bite, savoring the sweetness that felt like a balm to her broken spirit.

Just as she finished the piece, a shadow loomed over her and wrapped a warm coat over her trembling petite body. Startled, she looked up to see Sebastian standing there, his gray-blue eyes scanning her face with a mixture of guilt and determination.

Isabella stiffened, unsure of what to say, but more tears filled in her already teary eyes.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice barely audible over the festive noise around them.

She sniffled as he crouched down to her level, his expression softening.

She hesitated, her pride warring with her desperation. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.

"Because I know what it feels like to sit here like this." He replied softly. "It might sound silly to you, but 20 years ago I was sitting in this same place where you are sitting right now. Homeless and hopeless. Then an angel came and helped me. She gave me hope. If I still walked away from here, then it would be a shame on her kindness, and I don't want to let her down." He said, and more tears streamed down her cheeks.

She wanted to tell him that she knows, but she is scared and feeling embarrassed to admit it.

"Come with me," he said gently, bringing her out of her thoughts, extending his hand.