I made my way to my floor and stood hidden behind the stairs. It wasn't because I wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation. I thought that if I went now, Ichinose will feel a bit awkward knowing that someone who knew her would know something that she didn't want others to hear.
Ichinose was standing there, with her eyes downcast. It was clear that she was intimidated by the presence of the person in front of her.
She was wearing a business-woman attire. She was old and seemed about over fifty.
She had semi-long black hair that was upon her shoulders. She had a sharp gaze in her eyes. Her appearance and disposition were obviously standoffish, giving the vibe of a career-woman.
I kept myself hidden while I observed the lady clad in an office suit. She couldn't see me because she was facing the other way. Ichinose might have been able to spot me, but since she had her eyes downcast she couldn't possibly spot me.
"You are really beautiful. Just like her. There's nothing more infuriating than that."
Who was she? It seemed that she knew Ichinose but why was she humiliating her with such words?
"It would have been one thing if you resembled Daisuke. But you just had to resemble that girl. Anyway, mail me the documents and the others as usual."
"….Yes."
"Don't bother me with anything unnecessary."
With that, the old lady snorted and turned around. I instinctively went down a few stairs thinking that she may spot me. I heard her board the elevator.
I decided to come out.
She still had her eyes downcast. When she spotted me, she seemed a bit surprised, albeit for a short time.
"…Did you hear all that?"
"Sorry."
I didn't lie.
"Who was she?"
I decided to ask.
"...Ichinose Fuyuko, my grandmother."
She always had a strong personality, but her voice was creaking now.
"Just to say, she has been like this all the while. I am used to it."
She noted before I could ask further.
"I was hated by her to begin with. There's no point in worrying about that now."
It seemed like she was saying that to herself rather than me. Her voice was flat and monotonous.
She was trying to act tough. She didn't want others to find her in this state.
She was Ichinose Kei, the student who was top-notch in both academics and sports. She was the student who was admired by teachers and students alike. That's why she couldn't show others the weak side of her. She didn't want others to think that she had a weakness.
As the result of all that thought process, she was alone. There may be people who think that they are close to her, but for her, they were just that, friends, nothing more nothing less.
She had no one that she could open her heart to. That's why she was suffering alone.
She was acting tough, trying to suppress the emotions. The suffering, the pain, and the sorrow, it was all obvious from her eyes. The darkness within her was clear by looking at her eyes. Somehow I felt the darkness in her resonate with the darkness I carried.
She silently retreated to her room. I thought about what I should be doing now.
One thing was clear: I couldn't let her be.
She had been suffering all alone. She hasn't shared her pain with others, enduring it all on her own. If I let her be, she was sure to be swallowed by the darkness more. She would get depressed more and more.
If I let her be, her thoughts might take a turn for the worst.
Right after she closed her door, I sat down with my back to the door.
Realizing what I was doing, she questioned me, slightly unable to comprehend my actions.
"What are you doing?"
"Just enjoying the night breeze."
I lied.
"Do whatever you want."
With that, she walked away from the door and I could hear the sound of her sitting on her sofa.
I didn't say anything. Nor did she say anything.
It had already been about an hour or so since I sat down there. My butt was starting to ache a little.
Just then I heard a faint sound of footsteps. I had the feeling that she sat with me, the door the only thing between us now.
She didn't say anything for a while.
"I'm not on good terms with my grandma."
She began speaking. She started uncovering her wounded heart that she had been frantically trying to keep hidden.
"I don't much about my parents. Since my early days, I was raised by a nanny. I have only seen my parents in the picture. From what I have heard, my mother was someone from a lower status. My father fell in love with her and married secretly because grandma was against this marriage. Eventually, I was born. Right after my birth, my mom passed away. About six months after my mother's death my father passed away as well. The only reason my grandma does visit me reluctantly, was because that was my father's last wish."
She told me everything. How since childhood, she was deprived of parental love. How her own grandmother treated her. Like any other child, she wanted parental love. For her, her grandmother was her only parent. She wanted her grandmother to love her. But she didn't get what she had wanted.
It was painful when you wanted to say something, but there was no one that you could pour all these feelings into.
If I had forced her to tell it directly to me, face-to-face, she wouldn't have done so. But there was a door separating us. To her, at that moment, I was just a door, through which she could let her weaknesses in comfortably.
It was difficult, bearing all that by yourself. People have their own stories, their own sufferings, and pain. If they don't have someone they could talk this with, they will shut themselves in their room, all the while depression gnawing at them. Many people have broken down because of that very reason.
I listened without saying anything. She vented her frustration all on me. It was better this way than keeping her feelings bottled up. She poured her feelings into each word she spoke. I didn't make a single attempt to even console her. It would have been pointless anyway. It was the best for her to get rid of those feelings herself, the feelings that had been eating her away.
She stopped speaking after a while.
Neither I nor she spoke anything.
The silence stretched a bit longer. I felt as if she was gritting her teeth, she was clenching her fists with all her might. It felt as if she was trying to hold something in.
"Hey, open the door."
"No."
"Why?"
She didn't speak.
"Is it because you don't want me seeing you cry?"
"I'm not crying!"
She retorted.
"So, why not let me in?"
I could hear her sobbing.
"You know, it's okay to cry. No one will say anything to you. Cry your heart out."
"Ah…..Ah.... Ahhhhhh!!!!"
She started weeping. She was now weeping like a small child.
"I was alone! I am alone! And I would be alone forever! She will never take me as her granddaughter! Mom, Dad, why?! Why did you leave me alone?!"
She stared weeping even louder than before. She was crying her heart out.
She denied showing her weakness to others. She had acted tough till now. She had tried her best to act tough. But it all crumbled down.
To me, now, she was just like a child, deprived of the love that she wanted. A weak little girl. That was what she seemed to me.
She continued to cry. Her wailing blending into the dark night, all while I sat down and just listened to her screams of pain.