On Tuesday, we held my grandmother's funeral.
Several relatives came, each of them crying during the ceremony. She had always cared deeply for my uncles and cousins, so it was no surprise they all attended.
My father didn't come. He said it was because of work, that he couldn't be there for his own mother's funeral.
Just like her, he was a liar.
I glanced sideways at the letter lying on my desk.
I didn't want to open it.
I was scared.
After my grandmother passed, my father handed me the letter.
No matter how much he tried to pretend, his face showed the pain of someone broken inside.
I tried to distract myself, but my eyes kept drifting back to it.
Even though a day had passed since her burial, I still didn't have the courage to read it.
Nothing mattered anymore...
I had even stopped going to school, and my parents hadn't said a word. They both asked for time off and were at home now.
Even though I had promised myself I'd change, I couldn't… I had become that same girl again—the one who only knew how to cry alone in her room.
Why did this have to happen?
Tears spilled from my eyes once more.
Since that day, I hadn't been able to stop crying. I thought maybe the tears would run out on their own, but they never did.
No matter what I did, I would always be useless. Even my grandmother didn't trust me.
I was worthless… insignificant…
Why was I even alive?
If I disappeared, would anything change?
Would anyone miss me? Would anyone cry the way I did now?
The only person who would have… was gone.
None of this made sense.
I got up from my bed and walked to the mirror.
My eyes were red from all the crying, my hair a mess, and my face showed no trace of wanting anything anymore.
Keep going? For what?
Go back to school, only to be the servant of those two, humiliated again and again?
They had been with me all through elementary and middle school—of course I would run into them in high school...
Nothing would change...
What was the point of trying, if I was a failure who couldn't accomplish anything?
I was so pathetic that others used me, and I never had the courage to stand up to them.
Once again, those damned tears fell from my eyes.
It was pointless. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was nothing but useless.
I should just kneel before them and let everything continue as it always had.
What was the meaning of my life?
My reflection stared back with empty eyes and a weary face.
I… I gave up.
I stumbled back to bed and collapsed.
Even though every part of me felt crushed, there was still a tiny part that refused to surrender.
"Why didn't you trust me? Was it because I couldn't trust myself?"
It was the question I had asked myself over and over these past days, yet never found an answer.
In the end, she had lied to me for my sake… It was so unfair.
Everyone only wanted to protect me… Was I really so useless that people had to lie for my own good?
I closed my eyes, as if when I opened them, my grandmother would be standing beside me, telling me it was all just a nightmare.
Maybe it was seconds, minutes, or hours—it didn't matter. When I finally opened my eyes, nothing had changed.
"Please… I just want you to trust me. That's all I ask…"
I reached out and picked up the letter.
What hurt the most was that no one had told me what was really happening. That was why I wanted to believe in the last thing my grandmother left me.
If not, I was afraid I would lose myself completely.
Holding onto that thought, I slowly opened the letter, my hands trembling as if ready to let it slip at any moment.
"To my dear Yumiko,
I know you're searching for answers right now, and that's why I wrote these words—to tell you what I couldn't while I was alive. I spent so much time with you, watching over you, and I want you to know that I always understood you more than you realize.
At my age, simply being alive was already a miracle. My body, though fragile, allowed me to stay by your side longer than I expected. But I kept something from you, my sweet girl. A few months ago, I was diagnosed with a heart condition. At my age, there was no cure. I could have prolonged my time with treatments and machines, but I decided against it.
You may think it was selfish, but in my heart, I was at peace. I had watched my children grow, seen them build families, and was blessed with grandchildren who filled my days with light. Among them all, you were the one who spent the most time with me. While the others went on with their lives, you always welcomed me with a smile, and in those moments, my life had meaning.
Your parents are extraordinary people. My son, a devoted doctor, and your mother, a strong and capable woman. Their lives were always full of responsibilities, and I understood they couldn't always be with you. That's why I offered to care for you, to be there when they couldn't. But never doubt how much they love you. Their love is immense, even if you don't always see it.
You've always been an honest, cheerful, and beautiful child, but I could sometimes sense a weight on your heart. I know classmates at school can be cruel, and it often hurt you. I feared that if someone always solved your problems, you might never find your own strength. So I encouraged you to face them on your own—but I also wanted you to know I was always here, ready to listen, ready to guide you.
When I collapsed on your birthday, I realized my time was ending. Your father, with tears in his eyes, begged me to accept treatment. But I didn't want my last days to be spent in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines. I wanted to say goodbye on my own terms, with those I loved around me. It was a difficult decision, but the right one for me.
Your father… he has always reminded me so much of you. As a child, he was bright and full of life, but the loss of your grandfather changed him. He became more serious, more reserved, rarely showing his emotions. Even so, the day I was hospitalized, I saw him cry at my side, and I knew a part of the little boy I raised was still there. That's why I ask you to be patient with him. You two have so much to share, and if you trust him, you'll discover the same love deep within him.
Yumiko, I chose not to fight my illness, but before leaving, there was one thing I needed. I wanted to be sure you could overcome the shadows that haunted you since childhood. I always believed you would, but after my passing, I feared you might feel alone, that you might close yourself off and blame yourself for things beyond your control.
I promised myself I would help you find confidence, to free yourself from those fears. But one Monday I noticed something different. You walked into my hospital room with an expression I hadn't seen in a long time. You weren't forcing a smile anymore—it was genuine, as if something inside you had shifted, as if you had found a moment of true joy at school.
Seeing that, I decided to give you space. Perhaps I had underestimated you, because before I knew it, you were no longer the little girl I had cared for so dearly. In the days that followed, you arrived with a radiant smile, sharing your days with me in a way you hadn't in so long.
And then, that Thursday, it was confirmed. When I saw you, I knew something deep inside had changed. You were no longer the same Yumiko—you had found someone you could trust, someone who helped you carry what weighed so heavily on you. I won't lie, I felt a twinge of envy toward that boy, but above all, an overwhelming gratitude. My sweet granddaughter had finally found a friend. Though I will never meet him, I can rest in peace knowing you are no longer alone.
I didn't want to leave without seeing you smile again, and even if it wasn't me who brought that smile back, I am deeply thankful to the one who did. My duty as your grandmother was always to guide you and love you, and even though I won't be here to continue, I want to leave you with my final words:
Yumiko, life will place before you challenges that may seem impossible to overcome. But remember, you don't have to face them alone. I won't be by your side, but your parents will—and I trust you'll open your heart to them. This is the right moment to draw closer to those who love you. I'm so glad you've found a friend; cherish him, support him, just as he has supported you.
I know you'll grow into someone truly remarkable. Even though I won't be here to watch you, I will always be proud of you.
With all my love,
Miura Ayumi
From the moment I began reading, the tears wouldn't stop, but by the end, there were none left.
"Thank you, Grandma…"
I folded the letter and placed it on my desk.
"I really was such a fool…" I muttered, rubbing away the traces of my tears.
I felt ashamed of how I had acted at first—pretending I had nothing—when in truth my grandmother had opened my eyes. For a while, my mind had been clouded, but now it felt clear.
"Even if you're not here anymore, you're still helping me…" I sighed. "No, that's wrong. As long as I keep you in my memories, you'll never be gone." A faint smile touched my lips.
I rose from my bed and stood before the mirror.
"No matter what I do, I still look pathetic."
A short laugh escaped me, but unlike before, there was now a serious, determined look on my face.
Without hesitation, I slapped my cheeks with both hands.
"With this face, there's not much I can do anyway…"
I rummaged through the drawers of my wardrobe.
"I'm sure I put it somewhere around here…"
At last, I found an old photo album. Years ago, my grandmother had told me stories about her youth—how strong-willed she had been, how she never hesitated to defend her friends, how she carried herself like a queen.
"That look really does give her that air…"
I turned the pages until I came across her high school graduation photo. If not for her name, I might not have recognized her. I had forgotten she once had a different last name before marrying my grandfather.
"Blonde hair suits her so well."
Back in her rebellious phase, she had dyed her hair blonde, looking so confident, so unshakable.
"Even if you said you were proud of me, it's still too soon! I'll make sure you see the very best version of me!"
I was the only one who could decide the course of my life—and I had endured enough of my old self. Clenching my fists, I whispered,
"I've made up my mind. I'll become a better version of myself, one I can be proud of."
Now that I had decided, there were things I needed to do. The first was to change my appearance.
I left my room and went into the bathroom. On the shelf, among countless products, I searched for what I needed. Some time ago, after hearing my grandmother's stories, I had bought it but never used it. Now felt like the right time.
After a long shower, I dried my hair with the blow dryer and slipped into a robe.
"Saying it is a lot easier than doing it…"
I read the instructions carefully. Since I had never done anything like this before, it took me a while to apply the product and wait for it to set.
"Oh! Gold looks good on me."
I stared at the mirror—my brown hair had turned golden.
It wasn't enough to simply want to change. I had to prove it.
"My eyes go well with my new hair color."
I remembered something he had once said—that if he had to choose who was prettier, me or the other two, he'd choose me. So… what would he think if he saw me like this?
Just imagining his reaction made me want to go back to school already. But first, there was still something else I needed to do.
I stepped out of the bathroom with my newly dyed hair. Back in my room, I searched through clothes I had once been too insecure to wear. This time, I didn't care what others might say—I would be happy with what I chose for myself.
I put on a red blouse and a white skirt.
"Without a doubt, I'm far more beautiful than those two."
I flicked my hair back with a graceful wave and twirled in front of the mirror, smiling at my reflection. I had always loved listening to my grandmother's stories, and through them I had learned who she truly was when she was young. She never hesitated to show me examples to bring her tales to life.
I walked back to my desk and pressed the letter against my chest.
"Thank you, Grandma. I know you're watching me, and I promise you'll be even prouder of me than you ever imagined!"
I would never again be that timid, cowardly girl who only knew how to cry.
"Alright… time to face the next thing."
My relationship with my parents had always been complicated. But thanks to my grandmother, I now understood they truly cared for me—even my father, who had lied for my sake. That was why I wanted them to know how I really felt.
If you just sat and waited, no miracle would come to fix your problems. You had to stand up, fight, face them, and if you fell, get back up again. It wasn't about how many times you fell, but how many times you rose. Those words had always stayed with me.
And that was why I refused to sit around waiting for change to come to me.
With a confident, almost arrogant smile, I left my room and headed straight to the living room, where my parents were.