Chapter 5 - The Handkerchief and the Dawn
The room was silent, save for the slow, heavy rattle of Helen Chen's final breaths.
The family was gathered around the bed. Edmund sat on the edge of the mattress, holding his wife's hand, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking with silent, devastating grief. Lily was sobbing against her new husband's chest in the corner.
Nadia stood near the foot of the bed, her face pale, her hands frozen at her sides. She felt a cold, empty void opening up inside her—the same void she had felt when her mother first got sick, but this time, it was permanent. There was no more time. No more tomorrow.
A warm hand slid into hers.
Daniel stood beside her. He didn't say anything. He didn't offer empty platitudes or comfortable lies. He simply held her hand, his fingers locking between hers with a grip that was solid as granite.
Helen opened her eyes one last time. Her gaze was hazy, but it found Nadia. Then, slowly, it shifted to Daniel.
With her last ounce of strength, Helen gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
"Kind..." she whispered, her voice a faint sigh. "Good."
Then, her eyes closed. The rattle stopped. The room fell into a heavy, sacred silence that was broken only by the sound of Edmund’s first, ragged sob.
Nadia didn't cry. She couldn't. She felt frozen, as if her body had turned to stone.
It was only hours later, when the first gray light of dawn began to touch the pine trees outside, that Daniel gently guided her out of the room and onto the quiet front porch.
The air was cold now. Nadia shivered, her arms wrapping around her chest.
Daniel stepped behind her, draping his heavy cashmere sweater over her shoulders. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, white linen handkerchief. It was the same one from the car.
He placed it in her hand, his fingers lingering on hers.
"I tried to return this," she whispered, her voice cracking as the first tear finally slipped down her cheek.
"Keep it," Daniel said softly, his arm sliding around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. "Keep it until you don't need it anymore."
May you like
"I don't know how to do this, Daniel," she sobbed, her head finally resting against his chest, her tears soaking into his white shirt. "I don't know how to be without her."
"You don't have to do it alone," he said, his chin resting against her hair. "I am here. For as long as it takes. For real."
