Arwen’s steps felt unbearably heavy as she returned to the old house after the simple funeral.
Every corner of Dunkeld seemed to watch her with sorrow, as if the entire small town shared in her mourning. The dew clinging to her shoulders slowly melted, leaving damp marks on her black coat.
Once inside, she closed the door softly. There was silence. Only the ticking of the old clock in the living room could be heard, deepening the loneliness that seemed to choke her.
Her gaze drifted across the room—the empty rocking chair on the porch, the cold teapot on the table, and the unfinished embroidery left on the corner of a chair—fragments of memories with her grandmother.
Tears welled again. She stepped into Selena’s room, opening the door that still creaked with its familiar sound.
The fa
