The silence after the woman in the blue dress left wasn't comforting.
Meri knew better than that now.
There were different kinds of silence.
The silence in the apartment when her mommy worked late.
The silence in hospital hallways at night.
The silence inside a car trunk.
And then there was this silence.
The kind that felt like it was waiting for something.
The kind that made her skin crawl.
---
Meri stayed hidden.
At some point during the night, she climbed out of the wardrobe and squeezed herself beneath the bed instead.
It wasn't comfortable.
The floor was hard.
Dust tickled her nose.
The wooden frame hung only a few inches above her face.
But from here, she could see her mother's chest.
And that was all that mattered.
---
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
---
Every breath Regina took eased the fear inside her, if only a little.
Meri counted them quietly.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Just to make sure they didn't stop.
Because if she watched closely enough, maybe nothing bad could happen.
---
She wasn't leaving again.
Not for food.
Not for sleep.
Not for anything.
She had already lost her mother once.
She wasn't doing it a second time.
---
The door opened.
Meri froze immediately.
Every muscle in her body locked.
She held her breath.
---
A pair of shoes stepped into the room.
Not the blue dress.
Different.
Older.
Heavier.
The footsteps carried a kind of sadness.
Even before the woman spoke.
---
She sat beside Regina's bed.
For a long time, she said nothing.
She simply stared.
As though she was trying to memorize the face lying on the pillow.
---
Finally, she spoke.
"Mrs. Lutheral came today."
Her voice sounded tired.
Not physically tired.
The deeper kind.
The kind that settles into your bones.
---
"There might still be forgiveness."
A pause.
"Even after everything."
---
She laughed softly.
But there was no happiness in it.
Only exhaustion.
---
"Zima is still angry."
Her fingers tightened around the blanket.
"Anyone would be."
Another pause.
"But she came."
---
Meri listened carefully.
Trying to understand.
Trying to fit the pieces together.
But adults spoke in puzzles.
Always assuming children couldn't hear.
Or wouldn't remember.
---
The woman leaned forward.
"You need to wake up, Regina."
Something cracked inside her voice.
Just for a moment.
A tiny fracture.
But Meri heard it.
---
"We have so much to fix."
Silence.
"So much."
---
The woman looked down at her daughter.
And for the first time, Meri realized who she was.
Not a visitor.
Not a nurse.
Not a stranger.
---
Her grandmother.
---
The realization felt strange.
Meri had never met her before.
Had never even heard her mother's family discussed properly.
Yet here she was.
Sitting beside Regina's bed.
Begging her to wake up.
---
"Please."
The word came out as barely a whisper.
"Just wake up."
The woman's hand trembled.
"Say something."
---
Then she shook Regina's shoulder.
Once.
Twice.
A little harder the third time.
---
"Regina!"
---
The door burst open.
And everything changed.
The door flew open so hard it slammed against the wall.
Two people rushed inside immediately.
A woman Meri recognized as Nani and a man she had seen moving around the estate before.
Both looked alarmed.
The kind of alarm that comes from hearing a voice break when it usually doesn't.
---
"Madam, please."
Nani hurried forward.
"She's unconscious. You can't keep shaking her."
---
Regina's mother pulled her hand away sharply.
"I know she's unconscious!"
The words came out louder than she intended.
Raw.
Frayed.
Like they had been dragged across something sharp before reaching the air.
---
The room fell silent.
Nobody moved.
For a moment, it looked as if Regina's mother might apologize.
Instead, she laughed.
A short, broken sound.
---
"Do you think I don't know that?"
Her eyes were shining now.
Not quite tears.
Not yet.
But close.
Very close.
---
The woman looked back at Regina.
At the daughter who hadn't spoken in weeks.
Hadn't opened her eyes.
Hadn't answered a single question.
---
"She's so..."
The sentence stopped halfway.
---
Her jaw tightened.
She looked away.
Then back again.
---
"She's so frustrating."
The words escaped before she could stop them.
---
The room became very still.
Meri felt her chest tighten.
---
"Madam..." Nani said softly.
---
But Regina's mother wasn't listening anymore.
Years of fear and anger and guilt were pouring out now.
Things that had been trapped inside for too long.
---
"She's stubborn."
A bitter laugh escaped her.
"Always has been."
---
She wiped at her eyes angrily.
As if she hated being caught crying.
---
"Do you know how many times I warned her?"
Silence.
"How many times I begged her?"
---
Nobody answered.
Not because they didn't have answers.
Because none of them were the right ones.
---
"I tried."
The words came out quietly.
Almost too quietly to hear.
"I really tried."
---
Meri pressed her cheek harder against the cold floor beneath the bed.
Listening.
Remembering.
---
"Your father won't speak to me."
The woman looked at Regina again.
"He thinks I failed you."
A shaky breath.
"Maybe I did."
---
The room felt heavy.
Too heavy.
Like everyone inside was carrying something they couldn't put down.
---
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Regina's mother whispered:
"My life is a mess."
---
The confession hung in the air.
Small.
Honest.
Painfully human.
---
Everything she'd been holding together seemed to collapse at once.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just enough for the truth to slip through.
---
"I don't know how to fix any of this anymore."
---
Meri had never heard an adult sound so lost.
Adults were supposed to know things.
That was part of being an adult.
They had answers.
Plans.
Solutions.
---
But the woman beside Regina's bed sounded just as confused as everyone else.
Maybe more.
---
A tear finally slipped down her face.
Then another.
---
She quickly wiped them away.
As though crying was something shameful.
Something she wasn't supposed to do.
---
When she looked back at Regina, her expression softened.
Just a little.
---
"Please wake up."
The words were barely audible.
"Please."
---
For a second, Meri thought her grandmother might stay.
Might sit there all day.
Waiting.
---
Instead, she stood abruptly.
As if remaining any longer would break her completely.
---
Then it happened.
A sentence she clearly hadn't meant to say.
A sentence that slipped out before she could stop it.
---
"She's so useless."
---
The words landed heavily in the room.
---
The moment they were spoken, regret flashed across her face.
Immediate.
Sharp.
---
But it was too late.
The words were already there.
Already heard.
Already impossible to take back.
---
Meri's heart hurt.
Not because she believed them.
Because she didn't.
Not even a little.
---
Her mother wasn't useless.
Her mother was the bravest person she knew.
---
The woman turned quickly.
Almost fleeing.
---
Without another word, she walked out of the room.
The door closing behind her.
---
Nani remained for a moment.
Looking after her.
Then back at Regina.
---
There was sadness in her eyes.
And something else.
Pity.
---
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Though Meri wasn't sure who the apology was for.
Regina.
Her mother.
Or everyone involved.
---
Then Nani left too.
The room became quiet once more.
---
Under the bed, Meri stayed curled against the floor.
Thinking about everything she'd heard.
Trying to understand it.
Failing.
---
Adults were strange.
They could love someone and still say cruel things.
They could cry for someone and hurt them in the same breath.
They could spend years missing a person and still be angry when they came back.
---
Meri didn't understand any of it.
She only understood one thing.
---
She looked at her mother's still hand hanging beside the mattress.
And smiled sadly.
---
I don't think you're useless, Mommy.
I think you're the strongest person in the world.
---
Outside, morning light slowly began creeping through the window.
And somewhere deep inside Regina's sleeping body, something was beginning to change.