Chapter 80
Nora’s grip on the phone tightened slightly.
She had anticipated resistance, but hearing it still made something twist in her chest.
“Grandma’s birthday only comes once a year, Alex. You can visit Aunt Linda anytime,” she said, keeping her voice even.
A sigh came from the other side. “I guess…” He didn’t sound convinced.
Nora closed her eyes briefly.
She knew pressing him further would only make him more resistant, so instead, she decided on another approach.
Later that evening, she found Arnold at his cottage, sitting in his usual chair, flipping idly through an old book. He barely looked up when she entered.
“Can you talk to Alex?” she asked without preamble.
Arnold turned a page, his face impassive. “About what?”
“Grandma’s birthday. He’s reluctant to come. Maybe if you talk to him, he’ll reconsider,” she said, crossing her arms.
Arnold finally glanced at her, studying her for a moment. “And you’re not going to ask me to come?”
Nora looked away. “That’s not what this is about.”
He exhaled through his nose, closing the book. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll talk to him.”
That was all she needed. She left without another word, walking back home with Alex. They barely spoke, and though she tried to brush off the lingering discomfort, it clung to her like a shadow.
Saturday arrived with a quiet kind of joy.
The house was filled with the warm scent of baked pastries and fresh flowers, the soft murmur of family members exchanging laughter and greetings.
Nora watched as her uncle Alexander presented his carefully chosen gift to Grandma, a beautifully embroidered shawl in her favorite shade of deep blue.
Beside her, Alex shifted awkwardly, hands empty.
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Chapter 80
Grandma turned her gentle gaze toward him.
“And what about you, dear?” she asked with a smile, expecting nothing extravagant, only a toke thoughtfulness.
Alex hesitated, glancing at Nora with a look of slight embarrassment.
“Uh… I didn’t bring anything,” he admitted. His shoulders tensed, as if bracing for disappointment.
of
Nora exhaled slowly, keeping her voice measured. “You’re still a kid, Alex. What Mom and Dad prepare is what you prepare, too,” she said, her words smooth, comforting even.
The tension In Alex’s frame melted almost instantly. “Oh,” he said, relieved. “That makes sense.”
He grinned, oblivious to the way Nora’s expression cooled ever so slightly.
She had seen the way he scrambled when it came to Linda’s birthday–not only remembering the date but counting down the days, eagerly anticipating it as if it were a festival of its own.
He had put thought into it, made it a priority.
Even if he hadn’t had money to buy a gift, he could have drawn something–he was more than capable of sketching a heartfelt piece. Grandma would have cherished it.
But he hadn’t thought of it. Not even once.
And it was that realization that had made her reluctant to remind him in the first place.
Sitting beside him, Nora forced a small smile, her thoughts swirling beneath the surface like an unmoving tide. Some things, she supposed, were simply not worth pointing out.
At that moment, Nora took out the herbal wine she had prepared and handed it to her grandmother.
The moment Grandma unwrapped the package, the faint yet distinct fragrance of aged herbs filled the
air.
“Is this… full–moon herbal wine?” Grandma murmured, eyes widening with disbelief.
Nora nodded. “Yes, Grandma. I knew you would appreciate it.”
There was a flicker of astonishment in the old lady’s gaze as she looked at her granddaughter. “This wine is almost impossible to obtain. How did you manage this?”
“I had some help,” Nora admitted with a small smile, not mentioning Leo’s involvement.
A delighted chuckle escaped Grandma’s lips as she turned the wine pot in her hands. “I haven’t had a sip
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Chapter 80
of this in decades,” she said, her tone laced with nostalgia. “Back then, only the most esteemed elders of the tribe could enjoy it. You have brought me a treasure, child.”
Murmurs of admiration rippled through the family.
Even those who knew little about wine recognized its rarity. Some exchanged glances, impressed that Nora had managed to acquire something so valuable.
Nora produced another gift, the very same wooden carving of the werewolf howling at the moon. She whispered, “Grandmother, Arnold wasn’t here today, but he asked me to pass on the gift to you, a work of art he has prepared for you.”
It was a finely crafted piece, depicting an ancient oak tree with twisting branches and roots that told a silent story of resilience.
Grandma took the carving with a polite nod, running her wrinkled fingers over the smooth surface. “It’s well made,” she said simply.
But there was no warmth in her voice. No delighted chuckle, no words of appreciation like before. Just a distant, almost forced acknowledgment.
A tense silence followed.
Nora considered saying something, offering a kind word on Arnold’s behalf–but she held her tongue.
Instead, she remained silent, her gaze lowered.
For all the warmth and joy surrounding this celebration, there was a quiet sadness lingering in her heart. It wasn’t just her grandmother’s reaction to Arnold’s gift that unsettled her. It was the absence of someone else someone who should have been here, yet wasn’t.
Her mother, Laura.
A pang of sorrow tightened Nora’s chest. She had long learned to live with her mother’s absence, but on days like this–days meant for family–the emptiness felt sharper, like a void she couldn’t quite ignore.
A hint of sadness flickered in her eyes, but she quickly masked it, pushing the feeling down before anyone
could notice.
As evening fell, the banquet began.
The long wooden table was filled with steaming dishes, the rich scent of roasted meats and spiced vegetables mixing with the laughter of guests.
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After et al.
Chapter 80
The clinking of glasses, the hum of conversations–it all painted the picture of a lively gathering.
Yet, something felt off.
One by one, guests arrived, offering their blessings to the old lady. But just as quickly, some began making polite excuses, slipping away early.
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