Nana's graduation certificate was still clutched in her hand, the edges already crumpling from her grip.
She'd run the entire way—five blocks from school, through the market street, past the rice fields—her heart soaring with accomplishment and excitement.
She'd done it.
Despite working until midnight. Despite falling asleep in class. Despite everything. She'd graduated with excellent scores, top of her class in mathematics.
Grandpa Li had promised. Promised he'd come to her graduation ceremony, promised they'd take pictures together, promised he'd be there to see her in her cap and gown. She'd waited by the school gates, scanning every face in the crowd, but he never came.
He must be sick, she'd thought. I'll go check on him. Show him my certificate. He'll be so proud.
She was smiling as she ran, imagining his face when she burst through the door—
Then she heard them. Two aunties from the neighborhood, standing outside the corner store, voices low with that particular tone reserved for tragedy.
"—such a shame, really. Li Jian was a good man—"
"—heart attack this morning, they said. So sudden—"
"—at least he went peacefully—"
Nana stopped. The world tilted.
No.
No, that wasn't right. That couldn't be right. She'd just seen him three days ago. He'd been fine. Smiling. Talking about the dumplings they'd make together next week. About the photos they'd take at her graduation.
He promised.Her feet moved before her mind could catch up. Running again, but this time not with joy. Running with denial, with desperate hope that they were talking about someone else, that she'd misheard, that this was just a terrible mistake.
The graveyard come into her view.
It was full of people. Black clothes. Solemn faces. A new graveyard with granpa Li name in the center of the main view surrounded by white flowers and his relative.
"No," Nana whispered. Then louder: "No. No, no, no—"
Her legs gave out. She fell to her knees right there in the doorway, her graduation certificate slipping from her fingers, forgotten. Tears came like a flood, like a dam breaking, streaming down her face in hot, endless rivers.
She crawled. Actually crawled across the floor, past the shocked faces of Grandpa Li's children, his grandchildren, his relatives who barely visited.
Crawled until she reached the grandpa Li final resting place and threw her arms around it, holding on like she could pull him back through sheer force of will.
"Grandpa," she sobbed. "Grandpa, please. You promised. You promised you'd come to my graduation. You promised we'd take pictures. You promised—"
The relatives stared. Some with confusion, some with pity. Who was this girl? Why was she here? Why was she crying like her heart was being torn apart?
In the corner, Zayne stood motionless, his own face wet with silent tears. He'd arrived two hours ago, had identified the body with clinical detachment even as something inside him shattered.
But now, watching this girl—this small, broken girl—cry over his grandfather's casket, he felt his composure cracking further.
She loved him. More than most of the people in this room. More than the cousins who'd only visited twice a year. More than the children who were too busy with their own lives.
She loved him the way Zayne should have loved him but had forgotten how.
"I graduated, Grandpa," Nana was saying between sobs, her voice breaking.
"I graduated with excellent scores. The best in mathematics. You—you wanted to see. You said you'd be so proud. I wanted to show you. I wanted—"
Her voice dissolved into raw, aching sobs. "We were supposed to make dumplings together. You said—you said next week. You promised next week."
One by one, the relatives began to leave. Uncomfortable with such raw grief, with this stranger's breakdown, with the reminder of their own inadequacy.
They murmured condolences to Zayne, patted his shoulder, and fled to their own lives.
Soon, only Nana remained. And Zayne, standing in the shadows, unable to move, unable to speak.
The rain started—soft at first, then harder. It drummed against the leaves,poured through the open space, began to soak the ground where Nana still knelt.
Her graduation uniform was getting wet. Her hair hung in damp strands around her face. But she didn't move. Just stayed there, arms around the grave, crying until her voice went hoarse.
Zayne watched her for what felt like hours. Watched the rain soak through her clothes. Watched her shoulders shake with grief. Watched her slowly run out of tears, until she was just sitting there in silence, one hand pressed against the cold stone.
He should say something. Should do something. But what did you say to grief this pure? What comfort could a man who barely understood his own emotions possibly offer?
Still, he couldn't leave her like this.
Slowly, carefully, Zayne stepped out of the shadows. The rain immediately soaked through his black suit, plastered his hair to his forehead, but he ignored it. He moved to where Nana sat and knelt beside her in the water.
"Miss Wang," he said quietly. His voice was rough from his own silent crying.
"He's resting now."
She didn't respond. Didn't even look at him.
"He wouldn't want you to get sick," Zayne continued. "The rain is cold. You should—"
"He promised." Her voice was barely a whisper, destroyed from crying.
"He promised he'd come."
Zayne's throat tightened. "I know."
"He was proud of me. He said—he said I was wonderful. That I deserved good things."
A broken laugh. "Nobody ever said that before. Nobody ever—"
She couldn't finish.
Zayne reached out, hesitated, then carefully touched her shoulder. She flinched but didn't pull away.
"He talked about you constantly," Zayne said. "Every phone call. Every visit. 'Nana did this. Nana said that. Nana made me smile today.' He loved you. More than—" His voice cracked. "More than he loved most of us. Because you were there. You saw him. Not just when it was convenient, but always."
Nana finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were swollen, red, devastated. "He was all I had. My father left. My family struggles. But Grandpa—he made me feel like I mattered. Like I wasn't just surviving. Like I was worth something."
"You are worth something," Zayne said firmly. "He saw it. I see it. And he—" He paused, thinking of the letter tucked in his jacket pocket.
The letter he'd found this morning on his grandfather's desk, sealed with Zayne's name written in shaking handwriting.
"He left something for you. For us. But first, you need to get out of this rain."
She shook her head. "I can't leave him."
"He's already gone, Miss Wang. What remains is just—" Zayne stopped himself. Clinical explanations wouldn't help.
"He would want you safe. Dry. Home with your family. He wouldn't want you to suffer."
For a long moment, she didn't move. Then, slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the graveyard stone one last time.
"Goodbye, Grandpa," she whispered. "Thank you. For everything. For seeing me. For loving me. For making me believe I could be more than what this world tried to make me." Her voice broke again. "I'll miss you forever."
She stood on shaking legs. Zayne stood with her, steadying her when she swayed. They walked out from the graveyard gate together, two grief-stricken souls in the rain.
"I should go home," Nana said dully. "My mother will worry."
"I'll walk with you."
"You don't have to—"
"I do." Zayne's voice was gentle but firm.
"It's dark. It's raining. And—" He hesitated. "We need to talk. About Grandfather's last wishes."
Something flickered in her eyes. Confusion. Fear. But she nodded.
They walked through the village in silence, rain pouring down around them.
Zayne stayed a few steps behind, close enough to protect but far enough to give her space.
He watched her small figure trudge through puddles, shoulders hunched, and felt something painful twist in his chest.
She'd lost the person who loved her most.
He'd lost the person who taught him what love was.
And somewhere, somehow, the old man had left them each other.
Zayne touched the letter in his pocket. His grandfather's final wish, written in weak, hurried handwriting, as if he knew time was running out:
My dear Zayne,
If you're reading this, I'm gone. Don't mourn too long—I've lived a full life.
I have one last wish. One final request from a grandfather who loves you more than words can say.
Marry Nana.
I know this seems sudden. I know you'll think I'm a meddling old fool. But listen:
She sees you, Zayne. Not Dr. Li. Not the award winner. Not the famous surgeon. She sees the lonely boy who used to chase butterflies with me in the fields.
The one who deserves love but has forgotten how to accept it.
And you—you can give her the life she deserves. The safety. The security. The knowledge that she matters to someone.
*You both carry too much alone. You both need someone who understands. *Promise me, child. Promise me you'll try. Not for obligation. Not for duty. But because I believe—with my whole heart—that you two can save each other the way you've both saved me.
Love her the way she deserves. Let her love you the way you deserve.
This is my final wish. My dying request.
Please, Zayne. Please don't let my two lonely children stay lonely forever.
All my love,
Grandfather.
Zayne watched Nana walk ahead of him, this small, grieving girl who'd somehow become the center of his grandfather's world.
How did he tell her? How did he explain that an old man's dying wish was for them to marry—two strangers who'd barely spoken, who came from completely different worlds?.
How did he tell her that despite the insanity of it, despite the logic that screamed this was impossible—A part of him wanted to try?.
The rain continued to fall, washing away tears, washing away the past, washing away everything except the impossible future that stretched before them.
And Zayne Li, who never believed in fate, who never believed in anything he couldn't measure and prove—
Suddenly wasn't sure what he believed.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued __