That morning, at the Drake family mansion. In the reading room on the second floor, Grandma Clara sat quietly in her old chair. A cup of green tea steamed on the small table. The book she usually read was still closed. The old woman's eyes stared blankly out the window. Occasionally, Grandma Clara sighed deeply.

The door opened slowly. Chintya entered, wearing a pastel dress and carrying a box of homemade cookies.

“Good morning, Grandmother Clara,” Chintya greeted softly, approaching with a sweet smile.

Clara only glanced briefly. “Morning.”

Chintya sat on the sofa across from her. “I made some cookies, Grandmother. Belgian recipe, with real almonds,” Chintya said, trying...