"If you ask me, your grandma's definitely mad. She's waiting for you to apologize first."
"Yeah, if it were my mom, I'd have been licked already. Your grandma is so nice and patient."
"She's not patient—she just..." Shia's voice caught, irritation rising. "She barely talks to me anyway. I think she just can't be bothered with me, that's why she said nothing."
She would rather be yelled at, even punished. At least that would mean her grandma cared. Instead, her grandma treated her the same as always and even bought her a new surfboard.
More than once, Shia stared at her grandmother's back, wanting to ask what was she really thinking. But it felt like some stubborn contest, and whoever spoke first would lose.
"But my mom said that your grandma was fixing ships last week. There were some stuff only she could do."
"You mean the ships that are sailing tomorrow? Our inn's packed with out-of-town Trekkers."
"My sister's going, too. I don't want her to leave... We're all going to see her off."
"Take me with you..."
So it was because of the ship repairs? Shia's resentment suddenly evaporated. Come think of it, around this time of the year, the harbor was always at its busiest, of course Grandma would be overwhelmed with work.
She regretted it. She shouldn't have picked a fight. But now, what could she do?
The next morning, Grandma left at dawn again. She was leading the send-off prayers before the ships set sail—the biggest event of the year in town.
Shia followed her in secret. The docks were packed, ships lined in rows, sailors holding their families tight, tears glittering as they said goodbye. Shia's chest tightened.
She suddenly realized she had never once really hugged her grandmother. If she couldn't say it out loud, then she would show it.
When Grandma finally returned home that night, Shia heard the door creak open. She bolted forward and threw her arms around her grandmother.
"I'm sorry, Grandma... I shouldn't have sulked."
She spilled everything in one breath. And just as she braced for silence, a drop fell onto her hand.
She recognized the smell—it was the scent of tears.
"Grandma..."
The reply came in an embrace, fierce and wordless, stronger than anything words could hold.