The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Yuvika stirred, her eyelids fluttering open slowly, as if emerging from a dream. The weight of the night's grief still lingered in the depths of her heart, but for a brief moment, the world seemed different. She was no longer the same girl who had been lost in sorrow the night before. There was something serene about the way the light touched her face, softening the sharp angles of her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw, and the warmth of her glowing skin.
Her dark hair, usually tangled from sleep, cascaded over her shoulders in gentle waves, framing her face like a silken veil. Her eyes, still slightly puffy from crying, were now bright and clear, with a depth that reflected both her pain and the fragile hope that lingered in her heart. In the soft morning light, she seemed more beautiful than ever—like a flower blooming after the storm, her beauty radiating from within. There was a quiet grace to her, a kind of peaceful strength that had always been there, but now, it felt as though the sorrow had somehow given way to a new lightness in her being.
As Yuvika sat up in bed, her gaze swept across the room, and for a fleeting moment, something caught her eye. There, standing by the window, was her grandmother. She stood exactly as she always had—slightly bent with age, but full of warmth, a soft smile on her lips, and a glimmer of love in her eyes. The sight was so familiar, so comforting, that Yuvika's heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she didn't question it, didn't wonder how or why. It felt like every morning she had spent with her grandmother, waking up to see her standing there, ready to begin the day together.
"Good morning, Grandma," Yuvika greeted her cheerfully, her voice light and full of warmth. She didn't realize, not yet, that her grandmother was no longer there. It felt natural, as though everything was as it should be, just like it had always been.
Her grandmother's smile widened at her greeting, and she took a small step forward, as if moving closer to offer her the comfort and reassurance Yuvika so desperately needed. Yuvika, still lost in the familiarity of the moment, climbed out of bed and stretched, feeling the muscles of her body ease with the movement. She moved toward her grandmother, who had already placed a neatly folded outfit on the chair by the window—the same routine they had followed every morning, without fail.
"Thank you, Grandma," Yuvika said brightly, her voice full of gratitude. She picked up the outfit, a soft, pastel-colored dress that her grandmother had chosen for her days ago. It was the dress she loved, one that her grandmother always said would make her look like a "sunshine in the morning." Yuvika slipped into it, the fabric soft against her skin, feeling a small, comforting sense of normalcy wash over her.
With a quick glance at her grandmother, she smiled and twirled in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress fluttered around her. The warmth of her grandmother's love seemed to envelop her, wrapping around her like a blanket.
"Thank you, Grandma," she whispered again, her voice full of affection and peace.
She moved toward the bathroom, her footsteps light, as if the weight of the world had shifted for a moment. Yuvika, still caught in the comforting illusion of her grandmother's presence, continued with her morning routine—brushing her teeth, freshening up, just as she always had. A quiet sense of happiness filled her chest, the kind of joy that comes from the simplicity of a day starting in the way it always had.
In the background, there was nothing but the soft rustling of the morning breeze through the open window, the gentle hum of the house settling into a new day. Yuvika, still unaware of the finality of her loss, smiled softly, as if the world was still whole, as if her grandmother had never truly left. She had no idea that the presence beside her was nothing more than a fleeting, magical echo, a love that had transcended even death. And for just a little while, in the light of that new morning, she felt like everything was going to be okay.
Yuvika moved through her morning with a lightness that was almost surreal, as if the weight of the past few days had somehow been lifted from her shoulders. She hummed a soft tune to herself as she made her way downstairs, her footsteps light and unhurried. The familiar scent of fresh coffee and warm toast filled the air, pulling her closer to the kitchen where she could already hear the sounds of soft chatter.
She entered the kitchen, smiling brightly, ready to greet the day as she always had. But as she walked in, her eyes fell on her father, Nikhil, sitting at the table. The sight of him jolted her from her peaceful reverie. He looked up from his newspaper, meeting her gaze with a neutral expression.
Yuvika froze for a moment, her smile faltering. Her heart, which had been so full of light moments ago, suddenly tightened. It was like a sudden shift in the air, an invisible weight pressing down on her chest. The warmth of the room seemed to fade just a little, and everything came rushing back.
Her grandmother.
The memory of the figure standing by her bedside, the soft smile, the way her grandmother had been there, just moments ago—suddenly, it all came crashing down. Yuvika's hand trembled slightly as she took a step back. The warmth of the morning was replaced with a cold, sickening realization that gripped her heart.
She blinked, confusion swirling in her mind. Was it an illusion? she wondered. Had I imagined it? The image of her grandmother's gentle face—the one she had seen just minutes ago—seemed to fade like mist. The room around her, which had felt so filled with life and love, now felt colder, more distant. The joy she had been feeling vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, painful ache.
Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She hadn't realized until that moment just how deeply her heart had longed for the comfort of her grandmother's presence. It was as though the warmth her grandmother had always provided had suddenly been taken away, leaving her feeling empty and alone. She pressed her hand to her chest, as if to hold herself together, but the tears came anyway. Slowly, they began to fall, each one a silent testament to the ache that seemed to break her heart all over again.
Nikhil, seeing the sudden shift in his daughter's demeanor, furrowed his brow in concern. "Yuvika?" he asked softly, his voice pulling her out of her haze.
But she didn't answer. Her mind was swirling, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions. Her grandmother, who had been there just a moment ago, could not have been real, could she?
It was then, as her father's voice drifted into the background, that she felt it—an almost imperceptible chill that ran through her. It wasn't the chill of a draft from an open window or the coolness of the early morning air; it was something else, something deeper. Her skin prickled, and she felt a presence, a soft weight in the room that wasn't there before.
For a brief moment, Yuvika's gaze flickered toward the corner of the room, just beyond the kitchen table. And there, in the soft shadows, she thought she saw something. The faintest outline of a figure. It was her grandmother, standing quietly in the doorway, just as she had always done. She was there—her figure glowing with a soft light, as though the air around her shimmered with the last vestiges of the morning's glow.
But this time, there was no mistaking it. Yuvika could feel it in her bones, the undeniable presence that lingered in the room, the same warmth and gentleness that had been with her all her life. It was not an illusion, not a trick of the mind. Her grandmother was there, standing silently, watching over her with the same protective, loving gaze she had always had.
A sob caught in Yuvika's throat as she stared at the figure, her heart beating faster in her chest. Grandma? she thought, barely daring to believe it.
The figure, though faint and shimmering, smiled softly at her, a serene, knowing expression on her face. Her grandmother's eyes—filled with love, warmth, and reassurance—never left her as she stood there, an ethereal presence in the quiet room.
Yuvika blinked, not quite sure if she was seeing things, but as the presence lingered, she felt a wave of comfort wash over her. It was not an illusion. Her grandmother had come back. She had returned—no longer bound by the mortal world, but still watching over her, still taking care of her in a way only a grandmother could.
Tears flowed freely now, but they were not just born from sorrow; there was relief in them as well, a bittersweet joy that her grandmother was still there for her, in a way she had never expected.
With her heart aching but full of love, Yuvika whispered softly, "Thank you, Grandma. I knew you wouldn't leave me."