*Chapter 48: Letters from the Sky*
The night was unusually quiet in the village. No wind rustled the trees, no dogs barked in the distance. Just the stillness of a world holding its breath. Julia sat near the window, her journal open in her lap, pen motionless. The stars outside blinked faintly like tired eyes watching over her.
She sighed.
Another day had passed—another memory without Grandma.
Her fingers traced the edge of the old scarf her grandmother had given her. It still smelled faintly of lavender. The memory of Grandma's voice hummed inside her chest like a forgotten lullaby.
*"Smile, Julia. Even when it hurts."*
She closed her eyes, hugging the scarf.
Suddenly, something tapped her window. Once. Twice. Three times.
She jumped. Her heart raced. She looked up.
A bird. But not just any bird. It was snow white, its eyes a bright gold. It stared at her, head tilted, before dropping something from its beak—a small, folded piece of paper.
Julia opened the window. The bird didn't fly away. It waited, patient, perched on the windowsill. She picked up the paper, fingers trembling. Inside, in faded ink, was a message:
*"Not all light is gone. Follow the whispers in the woods. – G"*
Her breath caught.
"G?" she whispered. "Grandma…?"
The bird fluttered once, then soared into the sky, disappearing into the stars.
---
*Scene 2: Into the Woods*
The next morning, Julia didn't wait. She packed a bag with essentials—a flashlight, her journal, the scarf—and headed for the forest just beyond the village. The same forest where she and Grandma used to pick herbs, talk about life, and share secrets.
The trees welcomed her with rustling leaves and shafts of golden light breaking through the canopy. She paused at the familiar path and whispered:
"I'm here, Grandma."
A soft wind blew.
And then, the faintest sound—like laughter. No, not laughter. A hum.
Julia followed it, deeper into the woods than she had ever gone before. Her heart pounded, but her feet kept moving.
Birds fluttered. The forest seemed alive. And then, there it was.
A stone circle.
Covered in moss, surrounded by blooming white flowers that didn't grow anywhere else. At the center was a wooden box.
She approached it slowly. The humming grew louder.
With shaky hands, Julia opened the box.
Inside were *letters*—dozens of them. All written in her grandmother's handwriting. Dated months before she passed.
The top one read:
*"To my Julia, in case you forget how to smile."*
---
*Scene 3: The Words That Heal*
She read them all.
One after another.
Each letter was a piece of her heart returned.
Her grandmother had known. She'd seen Julia's pain coming. In those pages were memories, jokes, lessons, and stories. But most of all—*hope*.
One letter said:
*"When your tears become too heavy, remember this: sadness means you have loved deeply. And love never dies."*
Another:
*"If you're reading this, it means you've been brave enough to keep going. I'm proud of you, my girl. Even in silence, I hear your heart."*
Julia wept.
But for the first time, they weren't hopeless tears.
They were healing tears.
---
*Scene 4: The Beginning of Light*
Julia returned home before the sun set.
But something had changed.
She stood at the doorstep of her house and looked up at the sky. It seemed brighter. The air felt warmer. Inside her chest, where grief had made a home, there was now a quiet warmth.
She walked to her mirror.
Looked at herself.
And—slowly—she smiled.
It was small. A little shaky. But it was real.
She placed the letters in a box under her bed. Then she opened her journal and wrote:
*"I may not smile every day. But today, I did. That's enough for now."*