The silence in the room was suffocating.
The rhythmic sound of my grandfather's heart monitor was the only thing that broke the suffocating atmosphere. Each beep marked the time he had left, and although I wanted to cling to hope, deep down I knew that this would be our last moment together.
My aunt was still holding her hand tightly, as if by doing so she could keep it from fading away. Her tears were falling steadily, but her gaze reflected something more than sadness: it was fear. Fear of life without him.
I, on the other hand, stood silently, watching the scene with a strange sense of emptiness. It wasn't that I didn't care, but that I simply didn't know how to react. For as long as I can remember, I have been someone who hides his emotions behind a barrier of indifference, and at this moment, that barrier was the only thing keeping me on my feet.
—Father, please, hold on a little longer... —my aunt whispered, her voice cracking. There is still so much I want to tell you... so much I need to learn from you.
My grandfather smiled faintly.
—Don't be afraid... My time has come... and I accept it calmly....
His voice sounded weaker and weaker, as if the life was slipping away from him with every word.
My aunt shook her head, refusing to accept reality.
—Don't say that, Father, you can't leave yet!
I clenched my fists. I knew that nothing we could say would change the inevitable, but still, I hated feeling so powerless.
My grandfather then looked straight at me.
—Haruki... Promise me something...
His gaze locked onto mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something inside me crack.
—What is it, grandfather...?
He took a shaky breath before answering:
—Don't let loneliness consume you... Life is more than books and routine... No matter how painful the road... keep going... and find your own purpose....
His words resonated deep inside me.
I opened my mouth to reply, but at that instant, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor turned into a continuous, high-pitched sound that chilled the room.
Time stood still.
My aunt cried out his name between sobs, as nurses rushed in to confirm what we already knew.
My grandfather was gone.
I didn't know at what point my legs lost strength, but by the time I realized it, I was on my knees on the floor.
I didn't shed tears.
I didn't cry out.
I just lay there, feeling an unbearable chill grip my chest.
The most important person in my life...was gone forever.
And with him, a part of me was gone too.
I don't know how much time passed after that.
The next few days passed in a kind of fog.
I remember watching my aunt organizing the funeral, talking to people who came and went, offering condolences with empty words. I just nodded, not really listening. It all seemed unreal to me, as if I was trapped in a bad dream from which I could not wake up.
On the day of the funeral, rain covered the city.
It seemed fitting.
The sky itself seemed to be in mourning.
Dressed in black, I watched as the coffin slowly descended into the earth. The words of the monk in charge of the ceremony mingled with the sound of the rain hitting the umbrellas. My aunt stood beside me, her face hidden behind a tear-soaked handkerchief.
I don't know what I expected to feel at that moment.
Sadness, anger, despair.
But all I felt was an unbearable emptiness.
When the ceremony was over, the attendees began to leave little by little. Some came up to me to give me words of encouragement. "He would be proud of you," "Be strong," "Time will heal everything." Phrases that felt hollow, as if they were mere formalities that needed to be said at this time.
I just nodded, unable to respond.
At some point, my aunt wandered off with some family members to attend to will matters. I, on the other hand, stood there in front of the grave, staring at the newly placed headstone.
Raindrops slid down the stone, blurring the letters of my grandfather's name in my mind.
—Don't let the loneliness consume you...
I remembered his last words.
I clenched my fists.
—I'll try, Grandpa....
I said those words softly, barely a whisper lost in the storm.
But deep down...
I wasn't sure if I could really do it.
The rain was still falling when, among the attendees, I noticed my cousins.
And as expected, they didn't seem really affected by Grandpa's death.
Hikaru and Souta, my eldest uncle's sons, were there out of pure obligation. Their suits were impeccable, but their relaxed posture and the way they whispered to each other made it clear to me that their presence was nothing more than a formality. Hikaru, the eldest, had a barely concealed smile on his lips, as if he was waiting for the right moment to take advantage of the situation. Souta, on the other hand, was looking at his phone with boredom, completely indifferent.
Then there were my uncles, Kenji and Takeshi, Grandpa's biological sons. They had never seen me as part of the family.
—Wow, what do you know? —I heard Kenji mutter, low enough to sound like he didn't want to be heard, but loud enough to reach my ears. In the end, the old man did leave this world.
—Don't pretend you're surprised," Takeshi replied with a smirk. We all knew it was a matter of time.
I didn't bother to look at them.
I knew my uncles too well. They weren't here out of respect or love for grandfather. No. They were here because they knew that the reading of the will would take place after the funeral.
For them, our grandfather's death meant only one thing: inheritance.
—He surely left everything to his beloved daughter," Kenji continued, with obvious disdain. He always treated her as if she was the only one who mattered.
—Maybe," added Takeshi, "but let's not forget the orphan.
I felt their gazes on me, as if analyzing my reaction.
But I would not indulge them.
Keeping silent, I just ignored them.
I knew exactly what they were thinking. From the moment I was adopted, I was seen as an outsider. An outsider who, without sharing the family's blood, had been taken in by the man they themselves called father.
There was always contempt in their eyes when they saw me, and although over time I learned to shrug them off, today.... today I didn't have the patience to deal with them.
Hikaru and Souta, on the other hand, seemed more interested in placing bets with each other.
—I bet grandfather left most of his fortune to aunt," Souta whispered with a sly smile.
—I wouldn't be so sure.... —Hikaru replied thoughtfully. She may have left something for our dear orphan cousin.
—Haruki? Please," Souta snorted, "What would he do with so much money? He'd probably spend it on books.
—Or on staying cooped up in his apartment without talking to anyone.
They both laughed.
I didn't bother answering them.
It wasn't worth it.
Soon after, the ceremony was over and everyone started heading to the private room where the reading of the will would take place.
I sighed.
I knew this would be the real start of trouble.