Merina was a quiet girl with tired eyes and a strong heart. Ever since her parents' divorce, she had been living with her grandmother. Neither parent had wanted to keep her, and so her grandmother—gentle, warm, and stubborn in her own way—took her in without a second thought.
They lived in a small wooden house near the edge of a sleepy village. It wasn't much, but it was filled with stories, steaming tea, and the soft rustle of yarn. Her grandmother had a gift: she made tiny crocheted toys—little animals, dolls, and keychains—all crafted with aching hands, fading eyesight, and a heart full of love.
Merina had grown up watching those hands work through pain and cold nights. And now that she was older, she couldn't bear it anymore.
"I got a job, Grandma," Merina had said one morning while folding the washed clothes. "You don't need to keep doing this."
Her grandma just smiled, threading her needle. "I like doing it. It keeps me alive."
"But I'll handle everything now. The food, the rent, the medicine. You don't need to worry," Merina insisted, trying to hold back the frustration in her voice.
That morning, her grandma had packed a small basket with her newest batch of plushies—soft bears with tiny scarves, cats with smiling faces—and held it out to Merina.
"Just sell these for me. One last time," she said with a sweet, pleading look. "And I'll never ask again."
Merina frowned. "I said you don't have to—"
"I know," her grandma interrupted gently. "But just once more. Let an old woman have her way."
There was a pause. A long, stubborn silence. Then Merina sighed and nodded, defeated by love.
"Okay," she said. "But this is the last time."
Her grandmother smiled, her face creasing with warmth. "Thank you, my dear."
After walking for a few hours, Merina finally reached the city. On her back was a basket made of bamboo scraps, carrying the cute little toys her grandma had made with so much effort and love.
"My usual spot," she murmured to herself, taking out the toys and placing them carefully on a carpet she had brought along to sell them.
"This time, all the money will go to Grandma. She doesn't need to pay for everything anymore. I'll handle it... somehow," she whispered, smiling at the money she earned that day.
In the biting cold, she sat on the bare ground, using the carpet to protect the toys from getting spoiled by the snow. She was grateful that all the toys were sold before nightfall. The market slowly emptied, leaving Merina and a few other people behind.
It was almost night. The stars sparkled brightly, and the full moon showed off its beauty through the thin clouds. The sounds of the market were fading away.
There were still people enjoying the evening. Shops stood in rows—from expensive ones to small stalls selling simple things like toys.
Merina was about to leave when a thought struck her: Grandma's medicines!
"Oh shit!" she said, palming her forehead.
Her mind raced with thoughts of going home—she was already too late. It was dangerous for a woman to travel alone at night.
But her heart pulled her deeper into the city to buy the medicines, knowing she might not be able to return anytime soon.
She chose to go. (Of course, she loved her grandma.)
"Walking alone at night on this path is dangerous... but what can I even do now?" she muttered, walking along the moonlit road. "Grandma is going to be really worried." She sighed.
The moonlight made the path look both magical and terrifying. Who knew what could come from the shadows?
"I hope I get home soon—"
Suddenly, something struck the back of her head. Her vision blurred. She was about to collapse face-first, but her mind shouted: Grandma's money!
She reached for her pocket. A man yanked her hands back. The money spilled onto the road. Merina struggled to break free and grab the money—but her body gave in, and everything went dark.