Chapter 35
Julia sat by the window with her journal open in front of her. A breeze rustled the curtains, and the late afternoon light spilled across the pages, golden and soft.
She hadn't written a letter in a long time—not like this.
Not since Grandma.
But today, something told her it was time.
She picked up her pen and began:
*Dear Grandma,*
*It's been months. But in some ways, it still feels like you left yesterday. There are days I wake up forgetting you're gone, expecting to smell your lavender tea or hear you humming in the kitchen.*
*And then the silence hits me again.*
*But guess what? I'm writing again. Not just small poems in the back of notebooks. I'm really writing. A novel. And people are reading it. Some even say it made them cry. Isn't that crazy?*
She paused, her hand trembling just a little. A tear slid down her cheek, but she let it fall.
*You always said my words mattered. That I had something special. I didn't believe it for a long time. I thought maybe I had lost everything when I lost you.*
But now I know…
You were the beginning of this story. Not the end.
She took a shaky breath and smiled through the ache in her chest.
***
Later that evening, Julia tucked the letter into a small envelope. She didn't have a mailbox to send it to, but that wasn't the point. She walked to the edge of the village, where the old tree still stood—the one she and Grandma used to visit every Sunday.
She buried the letter at its roots.
"I still miss you," she whispered. "But I'm okay now. I promise."
A breeze passed through the leaves, and for a second, it felt like the tree exhaled too.
***
The next morning, Julia woke up to a notification.
*[Webnovel Contract Status: Approved]*
Her heart jumped.
She stared at the screen, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Callen!!" she screamed, grabbing her phone.
She didn't even wait for a greeting when he answered. "They approved it. *They approved it!*"
His laugh on the other end was pure joy. "I knew it!"
"I didn't think they would! I mean—what if I messed up? What if—"
"Nope. Stop. You did it. It's real."
She sank into her chair, overwhelmed.
This wasn't just a dream anymore.
This was happening.
By noon, Julia was back at her laptop, updating her chapters, adjusting the tags, preparing everything. Her inbox was suddenly full—readers commenting, congratulating her, asking when the next chapter would come.
And for the first time, instead of pressure, she felt peace.
Because she wasn't writing to prove anything anymore.
She was writing to share a piece of herself.
And that was enough.
***
That evening, she received a message from a reader she'd never met:
*"Hi. I lost my grandmother last year too. I haven't smiled in a long time. But your story… it made me feel less alone. Thank you."*
Julia read it over and over again.
Then she cried.
The good kind of crying.
Because someone out there had read her pain, and felt understood.
And in that moment, she knew—
All the sadness, all the doubt, all the fear—it had led to *this.*
***
She walked outside as the sun dipped below the hills. Her notebook was clutched in her hand. And just like when she was younger, she climbed to the top of the hill behind the village.
This time, she didn't sit to cry.
She sat to write.
The wind played with her hair, and the first star blinked above.
She didn't need an audience. She didn't need applause.
She just needed this moment.
And her voice.
And maybe a little hope.
She turned the page.
And began a new chapter.