Click.
I did not give up.
I called Uncle Martin.
He roared with laughter on the line.
“A Christmas fairy tale, kid. Do not make me laugh.”
Aunt Diane was harsher.
“Daniel, stop bringing up that check to mess with us. There is no way your grandmother had that kind of money. We threw ours in the trash ages ago.”
I went numb.
Everyone thought I was lying.
Only Olivia was left.
She picked up, voice syrupy sweet.
“Hey, cousin. Why are you calling so early?”
“Olivia, do you still have the check grandma gave you?”
“Yeah, I kept it as a souvenir. It looked pretty legit, actually.”
“Take it to a bank and try to cash it. I just did. $6 million really went into my account.”
Olivia giggled.
“Are you pranking me? Got to go. Bye.”
I thought she would just ignore me.
But the next morning at 800 a.m., my phone rang.
Olivia.
“Daniel, how dare you trick me like that?”
Her voice was shrill, almost hysterical.
“I took that check to the bank this morning and they said the account is empty. Do you think this joke is funny?”
I froze.
My heart dropped to the floor.
“Olivia, I am not joking. I got the money for real. I can send you the screenshot.”
Phân cảnh 13: Returning to the cabin
“Do not lie to me. I hate you.”
She hung up.
I sat down hard on the kitchen floor, hands shaking uncontrollably.
What the hell was going on?
I had received the money two days ago.
How could the account suddenly be empty?
I called grandma again.
Still no answer.
10th time.
20th time.
Nothing.
A cold dread crawled from the base of my neck down my spine.
I glanced at the clock.
9:12 a.m.
She was always up by 6 hours to light the fireplace.
Why had she not answered the phone in days?
I threw a few changes of clothes into a backpack, grabbed my wallet and car keys, and bolted out of the apartment without even locking the door.
On Highway 85, snow started falling in big, heavy flakes that smacked against the windshield like invisible hands trying to hold me back.
I drove faster than usual, knuckles white on the steering wheel, radio off, only the frantic thud of my heart filling the silence.
Those 7 hours felt like an entire lifetime.
I called Grandma again and again.
No answer.
I called Tom Harris, the neighbor who used to split firewood for her.
No answer.
A crushing dread pressed down on my chest.
I prayed she was just sleeping deeply, mildly sick, or that her phone had simply died.
But deep inside, I already knew something was terribly, irrevocably wrong.
When I finally turned onto the snow-covered dirt road leading to the cabin, dusk had fallen.
The headlights swept across the pine forest and the blinding white ground.
The cabin appeared silent and abandoned like a forgotten painting.
No smoke rose from the chimney.
No warm golden light spilled from the porch.
Only darkness and a deathly cold.
I skidded to a crooked stop, leapt out, and ran up the steps, slipping on ice.
My keys clattered to the ground.
I had to kneel to pick them up, hands shaking violently.
The door was unlocked.
I shoved it open.
A blast of icy air rushed in with me.
The cabin was freezing as if the fireplace had been dead for days.
“Grandma.”
My voice echoed, lost among the wooden walls.
No reply.
Only the wind howling outside and my heart pounding like war drums.
I walked slowly toward her bedroom, terrified of startling her.
The door was a jar.
I pushed it gently.
She
Phân cảnh 14: The devastating discovery
was lying there.
Blanket pulled up to her chest, hands neatly folded on her stomach, face peaceful as if lost in the deepest, sweetest sleep.
Silver hair spread across the white pillow, lips slightly curved in what looked like a faint smile for a beautiful dream.
Relief flooded me.
I nearly cried.
She was only sleeping.
She must be exhausted.
“Grandma,” I whispered, stepping closer, gently tugging the blanket higher to keep her warm.
Her hand was exposed.
I reached to tuck it in and froze.
Cold.
Ice cold.
Not the cold of winter, but the cold of someone already gone.
Trembling, I touched her cheek.
Still cold.
I pressed my hand to her chest.
No rise and fall.
I laid my ear against her heart.
No beat.
In a single second, my entire world collapsed.
“Grandma, grandma, no. Please, no.”
I screamed, voice shattering, shaking her, hugging her, kissing her forehead, tears pouring down onto her face.
But she remained still, serene, as if she had simply been waiting for me to come home so she could say goodbye.
I do not remember dialing 911.
I only remember sitting beside the bed, clutching her hands, sobbing until my throat was raw.
The paramedics arrived, two men in reflective jackets, faces grave.
They checked her pulse, shown a light into her eyes, then one gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I am so sorry. She has been gone for probably 3 or 4 days.”
3 or 4 days.
Since the morning I left, she had lain here alone in this freezing house, waiting for me, and I never knew.
I collapsed to the floor, held her one last time, and cried until there were no tears left.
Later, after they had taken her away, the cabin felt terrifyingly empty.
I sat on the living room floor, numb, when I
Phân cảnh 15: Grandma’s final message
noticed a white envelope placed neatly on the dining table, exactly where she used to sit and pour my tea every morning.
On the outside, in her familiar trembling handwriting:
For Daniel.