Chapter 9
That night, Julia couldn't sleep. The attic still lingered in her heart—her grandmother's words, the light, the silence, the hope.
She sat by her window, the village resting quietly below, and the sky glittering with stars above.
She opened her notebook and began to write a letter—not to a person, but to the stars.
> *"Dear stars,*
> *It's me, Julia. I don't really know how to feel anymore. Some days I wake up and wish I could go back to before. Back when my grandma would sing while cooking, or laugh at my stories like they were the best in the world.*
> *Now everything feels too quiet."*
The words spilled from her heart, soft and raw.
> *"But tonight, I found her journal. I heard her voice in the pages. And for the first time… I felt like maybe I'm not broken. Maybe she left a little bit of her light for me to follow."*
Julia paused and looked up. The stars didn't speak, but they shimmered like they were listening.
She smiled—barely—but it was there.
> *"Thank you for staying up with me, stars. I'll keep writing, even on the days I don't want to. Maybe one day someone will read my words and feel like they're not alone either."*
She folded the letter and placed it under her pillow.
Outside, a soft breeze blew through the trees. And for the first time in a long time, Julia fell asleep *with peace in her chest.*