Chapter 10
The alarm on the monitors blared. A team of doctors and nurses in white coats rushed in–but in the end, fate had already made its choice. I still left.
The one bit of fortune–before I died, I finally heard my siblings call my
name.
They wept like children as they watched me go, a peaceful smile on my face.
But I could no longer hear a thing.
After my burial, they returned to our hometown–to the small diner.
The house was spotless, as if someone had been living there all along.
Just as they stood in stunned silence, they found a letter on the table. Alongside it were three bankbooks.
Those were the last things I left for them.
Harry opened my old belongings. Unlike what he imagined, there weren’t many–just a few clothes, a shredded and taped–back–together college acceptance letter, and a photo of the four of us.
It was taken a week before our parents died.
I stood in the center, Harry and Chris on either side, and Calista grinning brightly in front of me…
In the letter, I wrote, “Dear Harry, now that I’m gone, you’re the eldest.
Take good care of your younger siblings. Don’t be too reckless in business
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-always leave yourself a way back. I failed to look after you all properly. Now, it’s up to you.
“Dear Chris, I’m proud of all that you’ve achieved. You’ve always been my pride. Take the savings in this bankbook–consider it my help with your future wedding gifts. This is all I can give. Don’t blame me for not doing
more.
www.
“Dear Calista, I’m so proud you achieved your dream. I’ve been to several of your concerts–your singing was truly beautiful. But I won’t get to hear you sing anymore. If you can, maybe play your new songs at my grave sometimes? Haha… just kidding. The entertainment world is messy- Cally, you must stay true to yourself. I wish you a smooth path to stardom.”
www.
******
www.
After Harry finished reading the will, his face turned pale. Only now, with the weight of being the eldest truly falling on his shoulders, did he realize just how heavy it all was.
Chris held back tears and quietly began making dinner in the kitchen.
Calista snatched the will and studied the handwriting. Her tears, big and hot, soaked the paper.
“Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”
Chris placed my photo in the main seat, with salad in front of it.
It was the kind our parents always made–simple, ordinary, yet comforting.
But that salad, so familiar from childhood, tasted salty the moment it touched their lips…
None of them spoke. They quietly finished the meal through tears.
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As they were about to leave, Calista lingered, staring at the piano in the
corner.
Drawn by instinct, she walked toward it.
It was the one I bought for her–after working two weeks of night shifts at a club, just so she could learn music.
As she touched the keys, a small note fluttered down onto the table.
“Cally, I believe you’ll become a big star!”
The end.
