Chapter 129: Letter
Lucian made good on his promise by allowing
to run around the supermarket.
More than high-end boutiques, my favorite establishnts were supermarkets.
The supermarket close to our place was bustling, and carts squeaked as people busied themselves with shopping.
But the mont my husband passed through the automatic doors, the people closest to the door fell into a hush.
My tall, sharp-jawed husband, who radiated an air of perpetual indifference, attracted the attention of many people, including . And that was to think that I ca in with him.
Even the way he pushed the shopping cart indicated that he probably had an organized sock drawer. (He does.) So, it was no surprise that people were hyper-aware of our little trip.
"We should just buy one," Lucian murmured as he watched
frolic around the different displays.
He probably felt a bit uncomfortable with all the stares but still pushed our cart diligently.
"What exactly are you trying to buy?"
"I don’t know. The fun part of going shopping like this is checking out the displays."
It’s not like I would buy everything. What I loved was the principle of seeing these many food items, especially snacks.
Lucian just sighed upon realizing that this might take a while.
"I told you, you could have waited by the car."
"No."
"You have a whole bunch of people following
around. How could sothing happen."
"No. Sothing happened inside my own company. Your argunt doesn’t hold." Lucian scowled as if rembering unpleasant mories.
"Fine. Then help
look for interesting things."
We finally got to my personal heaven and Lucian’s personal purgatory—the snack aisle.
I tried to ignore the gawking shoppers as I wondered why we were getting too much attention. It wasn’t like I’d never shopped before; in fact, I was a frequent supermarket custor. And the butcher by the side even knew
by now.
"Why is everyone staring?" I whispered to Lucian after leaning closer.
"Maybe because your cart doesn’t actually scream adult grocery shopping."
I looked down to see the assortnt of snacks but couldn’t see anything wrong with my purchases.
"You know," I began, trying to explain my desperate situation, "I’ve been craving snacks like crazy lately. And it’s probably due to stress."
"Stress," he echoed skeptically while raising an eyebrow at .
"Yeah." I offered him an earnest nod while reminding him of my past schedule as well as the presence of evil juju everywhere.
"Clearly a situation that calls for ergency gummy worms," he deadpanned while judging my perspective goodies.
"Don’t mock the gummies when they’re far better than my other weird cravings." This one earned
another inquisitive side-eye.
"The other day, I wanted pickles dipped in peanut butter."
Lucian stopped pushing the cart before turning towards
to verify what I just said.
"Pickles with peanut butter?"
"Yeah! It’s my new thing!"
"It’s not a thing."
"It could be a thing." I pointed out, emphasizing that people should really consider it.
"Well, it shouldn’t be." He had a look of disgust but stopped there.
It didn’t take much ti for
to sweep everything that looked interesting while my husband tried to grab more fruits every ti I grabbed a bunch of snacks.
Eventually, we reached the checkout line, where we loaded our mismatched purchases. The cashier fumbled around as we waited for our receipt. But Lucian didn’t care much, only leaning down slightly to whisper into my ear.
"If your cravings get any weirder, I’m calling the doctor."
"Snacking isn’t an illness." I scoffed while trying to lecture my judgental husband.
__
Ard with the comfort food I’d managed to hoard earlier, it was now ti to check what Grandma had written for .
Lucian was kind enough to give
so alone ti, so here I was cross-legged on the bed, trembling a bit as I carefully opened the well-preserved letter.
"My dearest Eli," it began, and my breath hitched just from that. This was unmistakably Grandma’s writing—elegant, firm and unapologetic.
Just like her.
Even as her condition worsened, Grandma still managed to surprise us with her unrelenting personality.
"If you’re reading this, I’m likely no longer around to nag you into oblivion. But I hope that by this ti, you’ve managed to stop eating snacks on the bed." I couldn’t help but choke because I was doing exactly that.
"But if you still haven’t gotten over it, then I just hope you find soone who won’t get mad at you for calling on ants. Or, in general, I just hope that by now, you’ve managed to find people who would love you in my stead.
In my opinion, you’ve already spent your youth trying to please these people who are without redeeming qualities. And I apologize because this wasn’t the kind of ’family’ that I envisioned you’d have. I spent decades trying to fix your Grandfather, thinking that if I just loved him enough, he’d stop being... well, himself. But we both know how that ended."
I didn’t think it’d take Grandma’s insults to quell my raging frustrations concerning the Chairman. Tears pricked at the corner of my ears while I laughed at Grandma’s train of thought.
"I’m really sorry about that," the letter continued. "I’m sorry for not staying long enough to whack so sense into the people of that family. I apologize for being weak and frail and allowing them to dominate your life like that."
My chest tightened as if I could hear my Grandmother’s voice, berating and comforting.
"My dear, you deserved better role models, and we weren’t good enough. Our negligence forced you to take on burdens you didn’t have anything to do with. But hopefully, by now, you’ve realized that you owe them nothing—not a single valuable and definitely not your sympathy.
I could only hope that you’re doing better now. But if not, walk out of there and never look back. And if soone tries to stop you, tell them they can shove it."
Like a madman, I was laughing hard as tears stread down my face. My heart felt warm, but at the sa ti, it was hallowed with how much I missed my Grandmother.
"I love you more than you know, and I love you enough to frustrate your Grandfather into repenting. That old geezer should seriously get a grip.
Be happy, and know that if possible, Grandma will haunt those demons before resting.
Love you always,
Grandma."
I don’t rember how many tis I re-read that letter, the emotions cycling despite nearly morizing the contents. Then I looked around to see where I was, and a small smile crept in.
Don’t worry, Grandma. We’ve got this.
I’m happy now.
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