The Williams family sat around the dining table, the silence broken only by the faint clink of cutlery against porcelain. No one spoke. No one dared to. Athena sat stiffly in her chair, nudging her food around the plate without taking a single bite. Every movement felt mechanical, distant—like she was present in body alone.
Imelda set her cutlery down, the sound sharper than intended.
"Athena," she asked gently, "why aren't you eating?"
"I don't have an appetite."
Imelda studied her face, worry flickering across her features. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with you?"
Athena swallowed. "Please… who's taking me to my room?"
Samy frowned. "Young girl, aren't you being disrespectful?"
Athena lifted her gaze, steady despite the tremor inside her. "Is asking a question disrespectful?"
Imelda sighed softly and stood. "Come. I'll take you myself."
They climbed the stairs in silence, each step echoing too loudly in Athena's ears. They stopped before a large white door—clean, untouched, unfamiliar.
"This is your room," Imelda said.
Athena opened the door and stepped inside, taking it in briefly.
"It's good."
"Do you like it?"
She nodded faintly. "Yes… thank you, Grandma."
The word still felt strange on her tongue.
"Are you really not going to eat?"
"I don't think I can."
Imelda hesitated. "How about oatmeal?"
"…Okay."
"I'll be back in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable."
The door closed softly behind her.
Athena sat on the king-sized bed, the space too big, too quiet. She dropped her bag, unzipped it, pulled out her headphones and phone, and pressed play. Music flooded her ears, drowning the memories clawing at her mind. Slowly, exhaustion claimed her, and she curled into herself like a child seeking shelter, drifting into sleep.
Minutes later, Imelda returned with a bowl of oatmeal, a gentle smile forming—only to vanish the moment her hand touched Athena's forehead.
Her skin was burning.
"Athena…" Imelda whispered, panic seeping into her voice. "Why are you so hot?"
She reached for her phone with trembling fingers.
"Penny."
"Imelda? Why do you sound like that?"
"I need you. Athena is burning up."
"I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Please—be quick."
Imelda ended the call and pressed the bell. Within seconds, Lucy rushed in.
"Get me cold water and a face towel. Quickly."
Lucy returned almost immediately. Imelda soaked the towel and wiped Athena's forehead with trembling care.
"It's alright… shh…"
Athena stirred, groaning softly. Imelda removed her headphones.
"How are you feeling?"
Before Athena could answer, the door burst open. Penny rushed in, followed closely by Scott, Samy, Natalie, and Zach.
"Hope I'm not late," Penny panted.
"Please," Imelda urged, "check her."
Penny examined Athena quickly. "It's stress. Severe stress. She needs rest."
"Aren't you prescribing anything?" Scott demanded.
"I'll give her an injection to help her sleep and medication for recovery."
"Then do it," Imelda said.
Penny prepared the syringe and reached for Athena's hand—
Athena recoiled violently.
"Stand still!" Scott snapped.
Imelda immediately pushed Penny aside and sat beside Athena, pulling her close.
"Athena."
Fear flooded Athena's eyes. "Grandma… they want to hurt me."
Imelda's heart broke. She stroked Athena's hair slowly. "No, sweetheart. This is to help you."
Athena's voice trembled. "Did they inject Aunt Lana too… so she'd be fine?"
Imelda froze. "Who is Aunt Lana?"
"Lana Faraday. She was my mother's best friend. She was killed in front of me yesterday."
Penny gasped softly. "Someone disguised as a doctor overdosed her. We reported it."
Imelda clasped Athena's hands tightly. "Penny won't hurt you. Please… stay calm."
Athena hesitated, fear battling exhaustion.
"…Okay, Grandma."
Penny administered the injection gently.
"Done."
"I'll leave the medication instructions," Penny said.
Natalie handed her a pen. Penny wrote carefully and passed the note to Imelda.
"Thank you," Imelda whispered.
"What are friends for?" Penny replied softly.
Zach tried to lighten the mood. "Aunt Penny, send me your account number."
She laughed weakly. "Why not?"
For a brief moment, laughter softened the room.
"She'll be fine by tomorrow," Penny said. "Just make sure she eats and rests."
Athena yawned weakly. "Grandma… can you sleep with me?"
Imelda smiled through her tears. "Of course."
Everyone quietly left the room.
Imelda lay beside Athena, gently brushing her hair as sleep claimed them both—two generations bound by loss, finding comfort in closeness they never thought possible.
That night, silence wrapped the Williams mansion like a fragile promise. Imelda held the granddaughter she had lost to time, and Athena clung to the only warmth she could still trust.
The pain hadn't disappeared.
It had simply grown quiet.
And sometimes, healing doesn't begin with answers—
it begins when two broken hearts choose to stay.