It took a while for me to properly process the weight of all I had witnessed.
I stood there in my room, right next to my door, frozen like a statue.
My eyes were widened, mouth slightly opened. My forehead was wrinkled, my fists clenching and unclenching, nails digging at my palm. The subtle, stinging pain assured me that I was, in fact, back to the reality I recognized.
Once I confirmed this, my brain went back to normal. And suddenly, I felt a large weight pressing down on my shoulders, on my body, and on my very soul.
Emotions brewed deep within me, feelings of sadness, of yearning, of hunger, of anger, of desire, and of love.
The weight of these emotions conjoined, combining in a desperate effort to bring me to tears.
My legs grew weaker, and I could no longer stand properly. I slowly crouched low until I sat on the ground.
I didn't know why. I didn't even want to know why.. why the strongest emotion that brewed within me wasn't that of love, nor was it anger. Instead, it was grief.
Overwhelming grief that gnawed at my heart, grasping in tight. It felt as though I was deeply regretting something.
But why? What did I regret? I didn't remember doing anything to warrant this immense feeling of grief.
Or had the guilt I felt because I failed to save Li-Song evolved into grief?
Impossible. Deeply impossible, it had been two years. The moment of grieving his loss had far expired.
Then why??
Why?? What is the reason for this… this damned feeling?
My heart was caught in a storm, a furious frenzy. It kept beating, and beating, and beating. Until I grew tired of it.
I tightly clenched the chest area of my undershirt. Grasping my heart tightly.
Because even amid the storm that raged on in my heart, I still missed him deeply.
A man that I could barely remember. I didn't even remember his name. I just knew that he was my father.
The way he looked at me, the way he held my hand, the way he patted my head, the way he…
He loved me. And I loved him too.
"Argh!!" I screamed aloud; it was the only way I felt I could release the lump that had grown deep within me. Veins bulged on my neck. And my head began to ache, the reason being that I had screamed and yelled one too many times that day.
—"Stel?!! Are you okay, boy?! You've been screaming nonstop!"—
Old man Craffold's voice cut through the thick layer of emotions that hovered in the atmosphere.
I didn't respond. I couldn't respond.
I just looked down at my open palms, which rested on my lap.
Then, I felt something drop on my palm. It was warm and liquid. A warm drop of liquid.
Really?
Are you kidding me?
I raised my left hand, touching my cheek with my fingers. And it was wet.
I scoffed, a bitter smile surfacing on my lips. "Tears?"
The moment I knew that they had dropped, I stopped holding them back unconsciously. I let them flow. I let them pour.
I cried.
Knock–! Knock–!
—"Stel, you have to open up! Really! Stella!!"—
The old man kept banging on my locked door. Yelling and screaming out my name. Asking me if I was really okay.
Never a dull moment with this old man.
Amidst the flowing tears that streamed down my cheeks, a faint smile tugged at my lips. Then, my mouth opened slightly, and the smile evolved into a small chuckle.
What am I doing, crying like a kid over such a meager thing? It's a dirty blow to my already shrivelled pride.
I sniffled, wiping off the tears on my face, my smile widening more.
I stood up, ignoring the pain that echoed softly in my heart. No, I acted like it didn't exist at all. And I just smiled. Because it was the only thing that I could do at that moment.
After all, I still have one good person whom I can call family in my life.
I walked toward the door, opened it, and saw old man Craffold's face.
His wrinkly face was colored by a mixture of several expressions. I could spot relief, I could spot concern, and I could spot anxiety.
His breath was heavy, his chest rose and fell softly. His warm, brown gaze softened the moment they met mine.
And I saw my reflection in his eyes. My grey gaze shone bright. Brighter than they had ever shone for the past ten years. It's embarrassing saying this about myself, but my smile. It was a bright one. One that carried no sign of sorrow.
I gently placed both of my palms on his shoulders.
"It's okay, old man. You don't have to break down my door. I'm.. okay." I said with a shaky voice that had yet to recover from the pathetic cry. A voice that seemed to betray my bright smile.
"What do you mean it's okay, Stel? You were screaming so loudly. It was... it was like you were in serious pa–"
"I'm fine," I spoke, not letting him continue.
Seeing someone worry deeply about me made the tears that I had fought hard to stop prickle within my eyes.
I tapped his shoulders tenderly.
"Come, let's go downstairs to eat breakfast. I also have something to say to you." I said.
My right hand slid down from his left shoulder, finding his fingers. Then I held his shaky palm tightly.
His were soft, wrinkled and worn from years. And…
They were small. My palm wrapped around his.
They weren't like my father's.
"Wha–" His eyebrows arched up, and he tilted his head. He was probably surprised by the fact that I was doing something that I had never done before. "Since you said you were fine, I won't bother asking you about it anymore. But why are you being like this? So different? Do you think I'd stop asking about the rent if you suddenly–"
I chuckled softly, grasping his hand tightly, but tenderly.
"Of course not," I said. "You still have to ramble on about that damn rent every day."
"Huh? Why? Wouldn't you want the opposite of that?" He asked, this time, a small smile divided his wrinkled, sunken cheeks.
Why? Because your ramblings are one of the only semblances of warmth I have in my life, old man.
But I won't say that.
"Forget about it. Let's go eat." I said, closing my room door. And while holding his hand, I walked down the stairs with him. Toward the dining.