Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 106

f this had been before, Grandma would have just laughed and said, “Silly girl, I’m your Grandma Emma–aren’t I your grandmother, too?”

Back then, even though Grandma knew their marriage had its problems, she always believed that if you treated someone with enough kindness, sooner or later, they’d see it–they’d respond in kind, and Emma would be happy.

But now, it was clear that Emma wasn’t happy.

Even though the girl tried to put on a brave face, Grandma had raised her from a child–she could see right through her. This time, she just couldn’t bring herself to say that comforting lie.

With a silent sigh, Grandma was about to speak when she heard him stacking the washed plates. “Grandma,” he said, “we should get a dishwasher for you. It’ll make things easier.”

She was pulled from her thoughts and smiled. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself over that.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said. “Even after we move into our new place, the renovations will take a while. Besides, I don’t have a grandmother anymore–so Emma’s grandma is my grandma now, too.”

The air in the room suddenly took on a bittersweet tang, as if someone had squeezed a fresh lemon right over her heart, leaving a sharp ache.

It was a feeling Emma knew all too well.

She’d felt that same ache the day his family threw a wad of money at him, as if that could settle everything. She’d felt it again when he had stood under the setting sun, grinning with defiance, saying he’d rather scrape by on his own than ever go home for handouts.

She remembered the time he skipped three days of class. When she finally ran into him outside campus, he had a black ribbon pinned to his sleeve. That ache returned, sharp as ever.

And then, when he came back to class and quietly told her, “Emma, my grandma passed away,” the pain inside her roared like the tide.

The last time that ache hit her was when Cecilia left for another country. He’d said his last pillar of support had fallen.

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Again and again, that ache stirred in her chest–she realized it was just her heart aching for him.

For all his brilliance, he’d been through so much he tried to hide from the world–so much mess and hardship.

One autumn, during Harvest Festival, everyone groaned about the bland festival pastries, but they all went home for a family dinner and those same

pastries–including her.

She went back to her grandma’s house.

But he he had no grandma’s house left to go back to.

After dinner, when she returned to campus, the air by the dorms was thick with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine.

On her way to her room, she spotted him and, without thinking, slowed her pace.

By some invisible thread, he slowed, too.

She offered him a piece of festival pastry–savory, filled with pork, handmade by her grandma.

That evening, they sat quietly beneath the jasmine tree, sharing the pastry. The moon was full and bright, with not a single star in the sky, but when she looked up, the jasmine blossoms glimmered like a thousand tiny stars.

They didn’t say a word. When they finished eating, he headed for the library, and she went back to the dorm.

She turned and watched his tall, solitary figure walking away. That night, her aching heart was wrapped in the gentlest, sweetest thread–a mix of sorrow and warmth she couldn’t untangle.

After so many moments of that bittersweet ache, it all built to a crescendo. Even four years later, when he asked her to marry him, she didn’t hesitate for a second.

She used to see things online–people talking about how sorry they felt for men who’d had a hard life. Back then, she never understood.

But now she did.

Yes, he’d had a tough run, and there had been so much pain. But, thank God, they still had time.

“Grandma, do you want to take a nap this afternoon?” He and Grandma had just come

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out of the kitchen, interrupting her thoughts.

Grandma shook her head, smiling. “I’ll rest after I’ve had a chance to digest.”

“Alright, then how about a round of cards?” he suggested, grinning.

Emma stared at him in surprise. “You’re not leaving after lunch? What are you still hanging around here for?”