The door opened softly. Ramona stepped in, weariness etched on her face, but also a flicker of relief: "Marina, Grandpa wants to see you. He has something to say."
I slowly sat up, my body still ice-cold, my hands and feet numb. Ramona supported me as we walked out of the room, step by step, toward Julian's bedroom. Each step felt like treading on knife points, the pain making my whole body tremble.
Pushing open the door, I found Julian sitting in the old wooden chair by his bed. His hair seemed to have whitened even more, his back more hunched, his face etched with exhaustion and heartache. In his eyes lingered a deep, unmistakable guilt.
When he saw me enter, he slowly raised his hand, gesturing for me to come closer. I walked to him and stopped, head bowed, unable to meet his gaze. I was afraid to see the pain in his eyes, afraid to see his guilt, and even more afraid that the emotions I'd barely managed to suppress would come flooding out again.
"Good child," Julian's voice was hoarse and weary, heavy with helplessness and remorse. He reached out and gently took my ice-cold hand in his. His fingers were still warm. "You're a good child. You've been wronged. Ramona told me everything—all these years in the Simmons household, you've suffered far too much. I failed to raise that boy right. I've failed you, failed your grandfather, and failed those two poor children, Louise and Zelda."
His voice caught, and tears slid down the creases of his weathered face, dropping onto the back of my hand—scalding hot.
"Tomorrow is the cremation," Julian took a deep breath, his tone heavy. "Once it's done, if you want to leave, then leave. I won't stop you. That boy doesn't deserve you. He shouldn't hold you back any longer, shouldn't make you suffer anymore. What the Simmons family owes you, owes those children—we can never repay it. Not in this lifetime."
I lifted my head and looked at his aged face, at the guilt and heartache in his eyes. Tears welled up again, unstoppable.
I said nothing. I only bowed deeply. As I bent at the waist, tears fell in heavy drops onto the wooden floor, each one landing with a soft sound, each one carrying my endless pain and gratitude.