As Tsukiko walked home that evening, the admiration of her peers still echoing in her mind, she felt a quiet sense of pride. With a smile, she thought about telling her grandma when she got home. Her heart swelled with anticipation as she imagined her grandmother's proud smile.
As Tsukiko reached home, she called out for her grandmother with excitement, her voice filled with anticipation. "Grandma! Grandma, guess what—" But there was no response.
She frowned slightly, standing to check.
"Grandma?" she called again, rounding the corner.
The silence that followed only deepened her worry.
In the corner of the room, her grandmother normally so full of life, sat motionless, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
The half-finished scarf hanging loosely from her hand while her knitting needles had fallen to the floor. Tsukiko's breath caught in her throat as she rushed forward.
"Grandma?" Her voice trembled.
Tsukiko reached out, gently touching her grandmother's shoulder, hoping for a response, but the coldness that met her touch made her blood run cold.
"Grandma!" Tsukiko's voice cracked, panic lacing every syllable.
her trembling hands grasping her grandmother's shoulders, shaking her gently. "Please, wake up! Grandma!"
There was no response.
Her chest tightened, and her breath came in shallow gasps. Desperately, she pressed her fingers to her grandmother's wrist, searching for a pulse. The skin was cool, and there was nothing.
"No, no, no…" she whispered, her voice breaking as she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers fumbled on the screen as she dialed for emergency services, her hands trembling so violently she almost dropped it.
The operator's calm voice on the other end felt surreal. "Ambulance," Tsukiko managed to choke out. Her voice was high-pitched and panicked. "My grandmother.. she's not breathing! Please, send someone!"
The seconds stretched into an eternity as Tsukiko tried to perform chest compressions, her tears blurring her vision.
"Stay with me!" she cried, her voice rising into a desperate wail. "Please! Don't leave me!"
But deep down, she already knew.
When the paramedics arrived, their grim expressions confirmed what she couldn't bring herself to accept. They spoke softly, their words a dull roar in her ears.
"I'm sorry, but we've done all we could. She's… no longer with us."
Gone.
Tsukiko's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, her hands clutching at the fabric of her grandmother's favorite blanket. The warm, lively home now felt cold, suffocating in its silence.
The hours that followed were a haze. Strangers moved through the house, asking questions, offering condolences. Tsukiko answered robotically, the words meaningless. When they left, taking her grandmother's body with them, the emptiness was unbearable.
The house was silent. Too silent.
Tsukiko sat on the floor in the living room, her arms wrapped around her knees. The world felt like it had been ripped out from under her. She was drowning in grief, and no matter how hard she tried to breathe, the air wouldn't come.
Her phone buzzed beside her. She stared at it blankly for a long moment before picking it up, her fingers moving on their own.
"Tsukiko, it's me Kai," Kai's voice cutting through the thick fog of grief that surrounded her. "How did your debate go?" he asked, his tone filled with excitement.
"Kai…" she whispered when he answered, her voice trembling like a fragile thread about to snap.
"Tsukiko? What's wrong?" His voice was concerned, instantly alert.
"My grandmother," she said, her words splintering under the weight of her sobs. "She's gone, Kai. She's gone…"
There was silence on the other end, but Tsukiko could hear his breathing, steady and grounding.
"I'm coming," he said after a moment, his voice firm despite the sadness woven into it. "Stay where you are. I'll be there soon."
The call ended, and Tsukiko lowered the phone to her lap, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. She was alone, and the person who had always been her anchor was gone.
"Tsukiko! It's me, Kai!" he shouted, his voice filled with urgency as he stood in front of her house.
Tsukiko forced herself to move. She opened the door, and there was Kai, his expression a mix of worry and sorrow. He didn't say anything, just stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
In his embrace, Tsukiko finally let go. She cried, her tears soaking his shirt, her body trembling as the weight of her grief poured out. Kai held her tightly, his hand gently stroking her hair.
"I'm here," he murmured. "You're not alone. I'm here."
For the first time that night, Tsukiko felt the faintest glimmer of solace in his words.