ailing grandmother

Raynald watched Arabella standing there until his car disappeared from view.

She had an indescribable feeling, a bit of emptiness, as if she had lost something precious.

The wind rustled the leaves, causing them to twirl at her feet.

After a while, Arabella turned and headed back into her grandfather's home.

She took the keys, entered a room—it was her grandfather's restoration workshop, where she had spent most of her childhood.

The room hadn't changed at all. Two waist-high red wooden tables stood in the center, covered with tools of the restoration trade—milling pens, carving tools, woolen cloths, and more.

The tables were covered in dust, as no one had cleaned in several days. As Arabella thought of her grandfather, who had passed away due to illness, a wave of sadness washed over her.

"So, this is where you honed your skills?" Cosmo's voice came from behind her.

Arabella nodded. "Yes."

Cosmo approached, running his hand over the table. "Impressive indeed. When I was a child, my g