gaze falling to the floor as she struggled to find the right words. She didn't know how to explain the complex emotions that had been building up inside her. She didn't know how to process the sense of responsibility she felt towards her mother, towards her grandfather.
The silence stretched out, becoming thicker and more oppressive with each passing moment. Ilya's eyes never left hers, his gaze piercing and unyielding.
Finally, Xu Chenyao spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "My grandpa," she said, her words hesitant. "I might not have met my mother, but my grandpa raised her. And it hurts me to see him so forlorn, he's getting old...I don't want him to pass on with too many regrets."
Ilya's expression didn't change, but Xu Chenyao could sense a faint softening in his gaze. It was a small crack in his armor, a tiny chink in his emotional wall. But it was enough to give her hope.
