In Kaelin and his grandfather's home, the basement was wrapped in a heavy silence. The grandfather opened the door with slow, weary steps, exhaustion weighing on him as if the whole night had pressed upon his eyelids. To his right was a small bathroom, and next to it, stairs leading to the upper floor. On his left stood an old table beside a cramped kitchen—the heart of this little house.
The grandfather entered the kitchen and began opening the cupboards and drawers one by one. The sound of empty wood echoed through the room, revealing a painful emptiness. He found nothing but crumbs of stale bread and scattered bits of food. His face creased further, his eyes filled with a shadow of deep worry and sorrow.
He murmured under his breath, his voice more of a sigh:
"It's been two months since they last came… I know they're busy, but this delay is strange. I hope they are alright… Ah, Kaelin, I lost my temper yesterday. I'll make it up to you today and comfort you."
He placed his trembling hand in his pocket, pulling out a few small coins. Turning toward the stairs, he raised his voice:
– I'll be right back, Kaelin… I won't be late.
With heavy steps, he left the house.
Minutes later, Kaelin slowly descended the stairs. His eyes half-closed from sleeplessness, his face pale. He rushed to the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards in haste. The clattering of wood filled the space. He found nothing. He muttered, his voice shaky:
– Nothing… damn it, I haven't eaten anything since yesterday.
Suddenly… the sound of the door handle slowly turning echoed. Kaelin froze, then panicked, running lightly yet clumsily, colliding with a wooden chair. It toppled to the floor with a loud crash, reverberating through the empty house.
The grandfather entered, holding a small bag from which he pulled fresh bread, the aroma rich and inviting, along with some fresh green vegetables. In his other hand, he carried another bag. He glanced at the kitchen's chaos for a moment but ignored it, as if his heart wanted to preserve the moment's calm.
He approached the small stone stove, placing a round iron pot, filling it with dry firewood and long green leaves. Moments later, the crackle of fire and the strike of a match erupted, flames consuming the wood.
He poured water from the barrel into the pot, then quietly began cleaning the dishes with a rhythm as if each movement held a meaning deeper than mere cleaning. Once finished, he picked up a knife and carefully chopped the vegetables. Every slice against the cutting board created a subtle, steady rhythm, like hidden music filling the space.
Within fifteen minutes, the aroma of hot soup filled the air—a warm scent mixed with burning wood and rising steam. The smell crawled up the stairs, gradually reaching Kaelin on the upper floor.
Kaelin stood by the large glass window at the top of the stairs, gazing at the distant horizon with hollow eyes. His chest heaved with unease, caught between the desire to descend and the fear of confronting his grandfather.
A heavy memory surged suddenly. His inner voice shouted:
"Grandfather was coughing so much… yet I left him alone. What if something had happened to him then?"
His eyes reddened, tears threatening to spill. He wiped his face quickly with the hem of his shirt, as if afraid anyone would see his weakness. Taking a deep breath, he descended the stairs step by step, each movement slow and weighted.
Upon reaching the basement, he saw his grandfather had set the table. A pot boiled, steam rising thick and fragrant. The grandfather poured soup with focus, a faint smile breaking the rigidity of his wrinkled face.
The grandfather's eyes briefly widened at Kaelin, quickly turning into a sly smile:
– Looks like the smell of my cooking got the better of you today.
Kaelin finally smiled, as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest:
– True, it got the better of me… but I've bested its master as well.
The grandfather laughed heartily, his voice filling the room with life:
– Ha ha ha! Then come quickly, the soup won't wait.
The two sat at the table. For the first time in a long while… it felt as if the house itself smiled.
They shared light laughter, the aroma of soup filling the air, warmth embracing the little house.
But… suddenly, the sound of heavy knocking on the upper door cut everything sharply. The grandfather rose in surprise, his voice tense:
– Hold on! I'm coming!
Kaelin froze, worried, watching from a distance.
The grandfather opened the door to find an elderly woman standing there, face full of panic. It was Mrs. Nelson, their neighbor.
The grandfather shouted in concern:
– Mrs. Nelson! Are you hurt?
She interrupted him breathlessly, her voice trembling:
– Mr. Dusk… please, come with me quickly… it's… it's very dangerous!
The grandfather paused, his eyes widening as if sensing the threat before he turned to Kaelin:
– We need to go immediately…