"My grandfather is sick," Emline said, sniffling.
She cast a subtle look at the crowd. Good. Everyone had their eyes on them, blatantly or not. If it was a show they craved, she was more than happy to give them one. This was just the opening act.
"Are you that heartless, Matteo Montgory? After you’ve already broken my heart so openly?"
***
Horace Hawthorne was resting on the hospital bed, but his eyes imdiately sprung into wakefulness when he heard the sound of the door opening.
"Grandpa, how are you feeling?" Alia asked quietly, taking care not to startle him with her voice. She slowly made her way to his bedside, her eyes roving over his waxy complexion. Was it her imagination, or did he look a lot thinner than she rembered him to be?
"I’m a lot better now that you are here," Horace said, reaching a hand out to hold hers. "When I received the ssage from Matteo that you were trapped outside the snowstorm, I had feared the worst. Thankfully, Matteo managed to bring you back to . I owe him a great debt."
He took in a shuddering breath. Her grandpa’s rheumy eyes were filled with tears, and Alia felt her own eyes water in response to the sincerity of his devastation.
"Don’t say that, you know Matteo didn’t save to get anything from you. And I’m sorry for worrying you," Alia said, squeezing his hand. Guilt welled up within her. "I caused your heart attack, didn’t I?"
It wasn’t as though it was the first ti soone she loved would suffer heart pains because of her. The mory of her father collapsing at ho replayed in her mind. Her father wasn’t as old as Horace Hawthorne, but the dia circus that had enveloped Alia had caused him to suffer a heart attack anyway.
Then her face paled. Oh god. How was her father in this ss? Did he know about what happened to her?
She needed to pay him a visit afterward to explain herself. With her missing phone, he wouldn’t have been able to contact her anyway. He must have been sick with worry!
"Nonsense. At my age, one is bound to suffer from a few heart issues eventually." Horace shook his head, a bemused smile on his face as he waved off her guilt and concerns. "I’m healthier than most of my peers since I started early on preventive care. But I guess age cos for all of us... The dication isn’t working too well now that I’m getting on in years."
He sighed to himself. "But I guess I should be grateful that the heavens have seen fit to return to the world of the living so that I can see you again. My old heart could not bear it if I had to say goodbye to you so soon after we had just found each other." He gently patted her hands.
"Grandpa..." Alia’s voice choked up. "You must live a long life. You can’t die anyti soon. Matteo and I haven’t even held our wedding yet!"
Her grandfather smiled. "Now that you ntion it, we haven’t actually set a date for the wedding. I hope it’ll happen soon. I’m not getting any younger, and I hope to see my grandchild grow up."
Alia coughed. "I would like to hold it after the fundraising for Hope for Scholars is resolved. I want to have... sothing to my na before I marry Matteo for good."
"Good, good." Horace nodded approvingly. "It’s wise to have ambition. You’ll need it to survive in our world. Emline has too much, and it has blinded her. But your incident was a rude wake-up call for her as well. She never expected things to go so far, and is sorely repentant for her actions."
Repentant? Alia fought the urge to snort loudly. She recalled the look of shock on Emline’s face when she saw her, alive and breathing.
If anything, she knew Emline must have been hoping for things to go further. If Alia were to return as a frozen icicle, Emline would probably host a year’s worth of parties to celebrate.
"I know she must have registered your presence as a threat to her relationship with Matteo, but please, for this old man’s sake, try to leave her so grace. She is my beloved granddaughter, just like you are. I do not wish to see our family tear itself to pieces when we can be stronger together," her grandfather pleaded, the wrinkled pads of his thumbs brushing against her knuckles.
"I believe there is goodness inside her. I hope you can give her a second chance."
"Well, I would not send her to prison since I have returned alive and well," Alia said with a wry smile.
Matteo might, but then he technically wasn’t a Hawthorne.
"That is all that I can hope for at this point. I’ll make sure she behaves herself," Horace promised, and Alia shook her head. She highly doubted Emline would listen. After all, this attempt happened right under Horace Hawthorne’s nose, with him none the wiser.
"Grandpa, you’re not her babysitter. Emline is a grown adult, not a toddler wetting her nappies. You should be focusing on your own health!" Alia argued.
Horace Hawthorne laughed. "That may be so, but in my heart, she will always be my little princess. And so are you, even though I never saw you grow up."
Now, there was a hint of regret in his words. Alia didn’t want the mood to sour, so she quickly replied.
"Which is why you must remain healthy! Take your dicine regularly, so that you’ll live a long life. You may not have my past, but you can still be part of my future, Grandpa."
Her grandfather wiped away a tear that beaded at the corner of his eyes. "Yes... yes, you’re right, dear one. Very wise indeed."
A yawn then escaped his lips.
"Are you tired, Grandpa?" Alia asked. "I should be leaving soon. You’ll need your rest."
"No, not yet. Can you call Matteo over? I have so things I wish to speak to him about," Horace said.
Alia nodded agreeably, but before she could reply, there was the sound of screaming outside the door.
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