Morning light spilled through the curtains, brushing gently against Maya's cheek and pulling her from a restless sleep. Her eyelids felt heavy, but something in the air had shifted—something unfamiliar and unsettling. She blinked at the wall clock. 10:20. Her heart skipped. She turned instinctively toward the adjacent bed.
Grandmother was still asleep?
That was unlike her. She was always the first to wake up.
"Maybe she's still tired… she wasn't feeling well last night," Maya whispered to herself.
Careful not to make a sound, she slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb even the sheets. She tiptoed out of the room and into the kitchen. Her parents weren't home. She poured herself a cup of tea and took a slice of cake from the fridge, trying to shake the unease that lingered in her chest.
She had barely eaten half when the front door opened and her parents entered.
"You're just getting up now?" her mother asked, slightly disapproving.
Maya nodded. "Yeah… I was really tired last night. I overslept."
Her father looked at her with concern. "Where's your grandmother? She hasn't gone out, has she? She wasn't feeling well yesterday."
"She's in the bedroom. Still sleeping."
His brows furrowed. "That's strange… She never sleeps in this late."
Her mother tried to ease the tension. "She must still be exhausted from yesterday."
Still, her father seemed unconvinced. He sat down, but after a pause, got back up, unsettled.
"I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling. I'm going to check on her."
A moment later, his voice rang through the house, cracked with terror.
"Mama! Mama! Wake up! Maya—call the clinic! Hurry! Get a doctor!"
Maya froze, her pulse crashing through her like a wave. She jumped up, pain flaring in her ankle as she ran, but she barely noticed. At the bedroom door, the scene unfolded before her like a nightmare.
Her father knelt at Grandmother's side, shaking her gently, tears streaming down his face.
"Mama! Wake up!"
And then—a high-pitched ringing in her ears. Everything went silent. The world around her moved, but without sound. Her mother trembling with the phone in hand, her father crying out—but Maya was no longer present. She was a ghost, drifting… lost.
And suddenly, she was at the cemetery.
Snow blanketed the earth, muffling the world in a heavy silence. The sky was a dull gray, and the cold clung to her black coat like grief itself. Around her, people with black umbrellas whispered condolences and slowly departed.
Only Maya, her mother, and father remained.
Her mother gently tried to lift her father away from the grave.
"Maya… sweetheart, we have to go. It's freezing. You shouldn't stay here."
Maya barely replied. "You go ahead… I'll come."
Once they had left, Maya knelt alone by the snow-covered mound. Her trembling hands laid a small bundle of wild lilac flowers on the fresh grave. Her voice, hoarse and broken, trembled in the cold air:
"How could you leave me like this? The doctor said it was exhaustion… That was because of me, wasn't it? If I hadn't called you… if you hadn't come…"
Her tears spilled freely now.
"You were always there for me. Always. And now you've left me alone—with this guilt. Why? I can't tell anyone… Dad was right—skating is cursed for our family. I shouldn't have listened to you. I never should've become a skater. Losing you… that's the price I paid."
She collapsed onto the grave, her fists crushing the petals of the lilac blooms.
"Wake up… Grandma. You always loved lilac. Look—I brought them for you. Please… just one more time…"
Days passed.
The room without her grandmother felt like a silent prison. Maya stayed in bed, her eyes always drawn to the now-empty bed across the room.
One afternoon, her father entered quietly and sat beside her.
"Maya, please… You can't keep doing this to yourself. Your grandmother wouldn't want you like this."
Tears welled up in Maya's eyes. "It's my fault. I caused this."
Her father sighed. "No, sweetheart. Don't say that. You want to tell me something—but you won't."
Maya stayed silent. She remembered her grandmother's words: It's not time yet for your father to know about skating.
Her father hesitated before continuing.
"Six months ago, when you were visiting your friend in the city… your grandmother had a heart attack. She recovered—but she didn't want you to know. She didn't want to worry you. That night, she had another attack in her sleep. Even if you had woken up early, you couldn't have done anything… So stop punishing yourself."
Maya broke down in sobs and threw her arms around him.
Her father's voice cracked. "I wish I hadn't said what I said in those last days. I regret it so much."
Maya took his hand. "No, Dad. Don't say that. She loved you. She was never upset with you."
He nodded, his voice softer. "You should go see your mother. She has something for you. I've got to get to work… I'll see you tonight."
After he left, Maya wiped her face and quietly walked to the living room.
Her mother brought her tea and cake and sat beside her.
"It's been a week, Maya. I know it's hard. But your grandmother left something for you."
Maya blinked. "What is it?"
Her mother fetched a small box from the drawer and placed it in her lap.
"Your name is on it. She must have wanted to give it to you herself."
With trembling hands, Maya opened the box. Inside were several neatly folded letters and a delicate bracelet adorned with a ruby. She took out one of the letters and began to read:
"My dearest Maya,
I had a heart attack yesterday. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. I wanted so badly to see you succeed before I go. But I'm not as strong as I once was. I write this in case I don't get to say it in person.
If I leave before seeing you stand on the Olympic podium—don't lose hope. Keep going. You will succeed. Even if you never reach the Olympics, you won't regret chasing your dream. Promise me you'll go to the Silver House…
I'll always be with you, sweetheart."
Tears streamed silently down Maya's cheeks.
But for the first time in days, her heart trembled not from sorrow—but from belief.
The next morning, sunlight bathed the breakfast table. Maya placed her cup down and said quietly:
"Mom… I'm going out. I don't want to spend the whole day inside anymore. If you need anything, just message me."
Her mother tried to hide her concern behind a smile.
"That's good, honey. Go see your friends—it'll help."
Maya slipped on her skates—her last remaining link to her former self—and stepped outside.
The streets were quiet, the air still holding the scent of last night's snow. She headed toward the frozen lake—the place where it had all begun. Her grandmother's voice echoed in her mind, guiding every turn, every spin, every glide across the ice.
The days passed.
Each morning, Maya left the house and didn't return until dusk. She trained, in silence and solitude, as if she could skate her way back to wholeness.
One evening, just as she was leaving, her father asked:
"Maya… where are you going every day?"
Maya offered a faint smile. "To the library. They're organizing new books. I'm helping out."
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
"Alright. Just don't overdo it."
Later that night, Maya returned to her room. The box still waited. She reached in and pulled out another letter and the bracelet. Its ruby glowed softly in the light.
Her grandmother's words unfolded in the soft rustle of paper:
"My sweet Maya,
You're probably wondering about that bracelet. It was the first gift your grandfather ever gave me. It held all his love for me—captured in the words engraved inside. I never sold it, not even when times were hard.
When you go to the capital, and find your way to the Silver House… take it with you. Maybe, in a moment of darkness, it will guide your path."
With trembling fingers, Maya turned the bracelet over.
Inside, a single sentence gleamed:
"I found life… in you."
Tears filled her eyes, but for the first time, a faint smile traced her lips.
Her heart beat steadily now.
She was ready.
And perhaps… the Silver House was closer than she thought.