Love at Dawn

The old grandma in town is about to pass away.

No one knows where this old woman came from, but they say she was already older than anyone in the town when she moved here more than a decade ago.

The town is small, and almost everyone knows each other. It is also closed enough to preserve the purest trust and goodwill.

Many families often send their children to check on the old grandma's health, bring her some surplus supplies, or just accompany this lonely old woman, which has already become a customary practice.

Now, the first batch of children who take care of her has grown up.

The old grandma is a mysterious figure in the town. She lives a secluded life, rarely receiving guests except the children who come in turns to take care of her.

According to the children, the old grandma is very kind and likes to listen to them read books. She often gropes the pendant on her chest, sometimes opening it to look at and caress the miniature figure inside. However, no one has ever seen the face in that portrait.

Therefore, despite the children who spread the news claiming that the old grandma would like to keep quiet and die undisturbed, many well-intentioned townspeople still go to visit her in that wooden hut.

Upon entering the simple room and seeing the old lady glowing on the armchair, adults scold their children for telling lies when they get back home.

But this news is told to them by Charlotte, "the cherub of the choir", complain the children. And everyone knows that little Charlotte never lies. People are puzzled.

On this winter night, little Charlotte sits by the old lady's bedside, reading a book of poems to the elderly woman with her bell-like voice.

Faint knocking is heard. The little girl jumps up, running to the outer room to answer the door.

"Grandma, a young gentleman wishes to see you," Charlotte shouts into the inner room.

"Let him in." The old woman opens her eyes with a smile in her voice. "You should go home and get some sleep now, Lotte. You've had a tiring day. Thank you, dear. Goodbye."

The cherub of the choir is delighted to have completed her mission and bounces out into the snowy wind outside.

The young gentleman slowly enters the old woman's view.

"You finally came," the old lady remains lying, turning her head to lift the arm drooping on the blanket, tremblingly reaching towards him.

This action reveals, oddly, a sort of girlish joy. "I knew you would come to see me for the last time."

The young man seems deeply moved: he strides into the candlelight range at the head of the old woman's bed.

He looks no more than thirty years old. His pale gold curls have been cut shorter and now fall down both sides of his earlobes. His intricate attire has been stripped away, replaced by a fitted, new-style gentleman's suit that is not particularly grand but decent and well-groomed.

"You're still so young, so beautiful..." The old woman squints her eyes and scrutinizes him, sighing sincerely as she does every time they reunite. "And yet I have long gone grey."

"Is this truly our final reunion?" The young man looks intense, his lips shivering slightly. "The people in town told me that you are still very well and healthy."

"My body is something I am well aware of." The old woman smiles calmly. "Tonight, I am going to die. My heartbeats are slowing down; every few minutes, they diminish a bit more. My body is growing cold. A natural death in bed! In this time, aside from this kind of place, who can hope for such luck?"

Her amber eyes gazing into his have turned cloudy, yet still hold a glimmer.

The young man slowly lowers his body, kneeling by her bedside.

He holds the elderly's drooping hand in both of his, and presses it to his lips in a gesture almost akin to piousness, leaving a kiss on that wrinkled and dim hand.

The kiss is so lasting and intense, that a devout believer would expect it to breathe renewed vitality into the frail body that could no longer sustain itself, reviving the youthful beauty in the wrinkled hand.

"Don't be so agitated, and don't shed tears! It would be considered impolite to mourn and weep for the death of so old a woman like me." The old lady chuckles. "You should bless me instead."

"I can't bear to part with you," the young man whispers, his head hung low.

"Bless me, then."

"I bless you. You will own eternal, true liberty."

"It seems we still have an unspoken connection." The old woman smiles.

"Have you lived a happy life in this town for the past few years?" The youth asks in a soft voice.

"The people here are the best. Especially the angelic children."

"Have you ever imagined what your life would be like if you were born here from the beginning?" the young man asks earnestly.

"I'd live to be ninety-seven years old, and die peacefully in bed by the hearth like today," the old woman teases, trying to lighten the mood. "Since the ending is the same, I'd prefer a few more twists and turns along the way."

The young man seems unaffected. He continues, "You would grow up safe and sound, meet a handsome and kind young man at the right age, have some lovely children, then watch them grow up and start their own families.

"You would never know that war and famine ever exist on earth, and could never even imagine what terror and evil are like. At this moment, your loving family would surround you, bless you, and stay with you until you leave this world."

"Then I don't want that," the old woman answers seriously and firmly. "I love liberty too much by nature to tolerate such a monotonous life."

"I don't want that either," the youth lifts his handsome face and looks straight into her eyes. "For I would not have met you."

The old woman falls silent for a while.

"I envy you," she starts again. "You still have plenty of time to enjoy a life full of adventures."

"And I envy you," the young man's voice carries a hint of bitterness, turning his head away. "You are the one who leaves first, so you don't have to experience the feeling of being abandoned."

The corners of the old lady's mouth raise. She decides not to deliberately tease this poor man anymore.

"I once loved you sincerely." She looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

The young-looking man stands up to kiss her cold forehead.

"But my heart is beating slower and slower," the old lady reaches out to her left chest and complains, "I don't have much time left. Sit down, come sit by my bedside, my love, and talk to me about our past again. Some things have been too long ago, which maybe I have already forgotten. Let me die slowly in my memories."

She closes her weary eyes.

He sits solemnly on the edge of the bed, takes her powerless hand again, and this time, interlocks his fingers with hers.

***Author's note***

Comments of any kind are genuinely welcome and will be responded to positively!

This is my first attempt to write a story so I would be really happy and grateful if you could take a moment to read it and add some comments.

Love you～😘