Chapter Nine: After the Storm
The moment Anaya stepped out of the hospital, the world felt strangely distant like she was watching life through a glass wall. Her body moved, but her heart was still somewhere else. Somewhere lost.
The restaurant boss walked silently beside her. He didn't ask questions on the way. Maybe he could feel it, the weight she carried, the silence that wasn't empty, but aching.
At the restaurant, he didn't ask her to get back to work. He simply pointed to a chair in the corner and placed a warm plate of food in front of her.
"Eat," he said gently.
Anaya stared at it. Her stomach turned. She shook her head.
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten properly in days," he said, his voice kind but firm. "What happened, Anaya? You said you were going to your grandma's. And now…"
His words faded. He waited.
Her fingers curled tightly in her lap.
Then slowly, almost in a whisper, she said, "She died."
The words hit the air and hung there.
He stayed quiet, letting her speak.
"I reached the house and there were people crying. I didn't understand at first… but then I saw her. She was lying there. Cold. Still." Her voice trembled. "I… I didn't even get to say goodbye."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly.
"She was the only one I had. The only one who ever cared."
The boss's face softened.
Anaya lowered her voice further. "After the funeral… I heard my aunt and uncle. They were planning to sell me off. To an old man. Like I was nothing. Just a burden they wanted to get rid of."
There was pain in her voice, but also quiet strength.
"I ran away in the middle of the night," she said. "Took her photo with me. Got on the first train back."
She looked up. "I didn't know where else to go."
The boss didn't say anything right away. He just pushed the plate gently toward her again.
"Eat," he said softly. "Not because everything's okay. But because you're still here. You still have this moment."
Anaya looked down at the food. Her throat tightened.
But she picked up the spoon.
And ate.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, unnoticed. Each bite was hard. But she finished the plate.
That night, she slept in her small room behind the restaurant. The bed was hard, the light flickering above her, but she slept.. really slept. for the first time since that night.
In the days that followed, the boss didn't force her to return to work. He just let her stay. Gave her food. Let her help when she wanted to. Sometimes she peeled vegetables, wiped tables, or helped carry plates. Sometimes she just sat in the corner, watching people go about their lives.
It was in that stillness that something in her began to settle.
Her grief didn't vanish. but it softened around the edges.
One morning, she stood in front of the mirror, tying her hair back neatly. Her face looked tired but steadily.
Life, somehow, had found its rhythm again.
Anaya slowly pieced herself back together morning by morning, note by note. College resumed like before, and so did her quiet part-time work, where she played soft melodies on the violin at the little restaurant by the corner.
Her music wasn't loud or grand, but it filled the space gently, like sunlight touching the floor through a half-open window. She didn't talk much, but she smiled more now. The days passed, and she learned how to carry both sorrow and peace in the same breath.
Then came March 17.
Her birthday.
There was no excitement in her face that morning, no expectations. It was already evening when she sat down on her bed and opened her diary. The pages still smelled like ink and longing.
She began writing.
"Hello… my future love,
It's been a really long time.
So much has happened. I don't know how to tell you everything, maybe one day, you'll read all of this and know how I really felt.
Today is my birthday. March 17.
I waited all day, hoping someone would remember… even just a single message. But no one did. Maybe I knew this would happen. I don't really have any friends. No family left to remember.
Only this little whale keychain sitting beside me. I talk to him sometimes. He doesn't answer, but he listens.
I'm a little sad today.
No... maybe a lot.
Anyway... Good night, man."
She closed the diary gently, her fingers lingering on the cover for a moment. Then, she heard a voice calling her name from downstairs.
"Anaya! Come down for a second!"
It was the boss.
She wiped her eyes quickly, tucked the diary away, and made her way down.
As she stepped into the restaurant, she blinked.
POP!...
A sudden sound burst through the air. Confetti swirled above her like a thousand tiny stars. She stepped back in shock.
Then, voices.
"Happy birthday, Anaya!"
"Happy birthday to you…"
The entire staff was gathered in the little dining space. A small cake sat on the table, flickering with a single candle. Balloons hung clumsily across the walls. A hand-drawn banner leaned a little too far to the left, but it read clearly:
Happy Birthday, Anaya.
She stood frozen.
"Come on!" someone said, clapping. "Make a wish!"
Tears brimmed in her eyes before she could stop them. Her hands trembled slightly as she walked forward. She looked at the candle for a long second, then gently closed her eyes.
I wish... I'm not alone anymore.
Then she blew out the flame.
Laughter filled the room. Someone put a small paper crown on her head. The boss brought her a plate with the first slice, already cut.
"Happy nineteenth, kid," he said. "You're stronger than most people I know."
Anaya took the slice with shaking hands and smiled,.. really smiled.
Maybe she didn't have the kind of life she used to dream of. Maybe her wishes came a little late.
But tonight, someone celebrated for her.
Tonight, she turned nineteen, not just with a cake, but with people who saw her, remembered her, and sang for her.
And Suddenly her boss anounced, " from now on Anaya will be my daughter. "
Anaya went shock. While the staff clapped and congratulate her.
The boss said, " come on, from now on you can call me Uncle, Uncle Brain. "
Anaya really want to recognise him as her family. And finally called him, " Uncle".
And in the quiet of that evening, under dim lights and leftover laughter, Anaya didn't feel invisible anymore.
Not forgotten.
Not unloved.