EPISODE 2
The Letter
The wake of Aria's parents began. People came to grieve and mourn with her, but no one stayed long. She felt completely alone.
Her only friend, Kathleen, wanted to stay by her side, but Aria refused. Today was the day Kathleen was supposed to leave for abroad to chase her lifelong dream, and Aria didn't want to stop her. Kathleen insisted on staying until after the burial, but in the end, Aria forced her to go. The latter didn't argue.
Deep inside, Aria was happy that her best friend was finally pursuing the dream she had cherished since they were children. But the grief and crushing sense of loss muted everything else—she couldn't bring herself to express that joy.
Days passed. On the last night of her parents' wake, people came again, but not a single relative appeared. Every visitor was a friend of her parents.
With a heavy heart, Aria stood before her parents' pictures.
"I'll continue my life… and I'll make you proud," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please watch over me wherever you are, Mom, Dad."
Her swollen eyes stung as fresh tears escaped despite her desperate attempt to hold them back.
Weeks later, Aria started searching for part-time work. She had promised herself not to lose hope—no matter what.
The afternoon sun burned brightly, shadows shrinking beneath it. Aria shaded her eyes with her hand.
"It's already afternoon. I should eat before continuing this job hunt."
She went into a small eatery and ordered the cheapest meal with just a glass of water.
"Any other order?" the waiter asked.
She shook her head quickly and replied with a shy smile, "No, thank you."
As she ate, the rain began to fall. Once, rain used to calm her—it had been a source of peace. But now, it only deepened her sadness, reminding her of everything she had lost.
With no umbrella, she had no choice but to return home.
"Figures… luck is really not on my side," she thought bitterly.
Soaked through, Aria arrived at the house. Even before stepping inside, loneliness weighed on her chest. But something unusual caught her eye—a letter stuck to the door.
"A letter? What could this be?"
She tore it open. Her hands trembled as her eyes caught the bold red words stamped across the top:
FINAL NOTICE TO VACATE – BANK
A dry, bitter laugh escaped her lips.
"So much for being unlucky… looks like I'm worse than that."
Now her problems had doubled. Not only did she need a job, but she also had to find a new place to live. She buried her face in the couch, her tears soaking into the fabric.
"If only I had relatives to turn to," she whispered.
The due date was one month away. Kathleen was already overseas. The only relative she could think of was her grandmother—but she hadn't seen her since she was a child. Aria wasn't even sure if she was still alive, or if she still lived at the same address.
That night, with a heavy heart, Aria sat in her room, staring at a family photo. She missed her parents terribly. Who would brush her hair before bed now? Who would spend weekends laughing and making memories with her? One tragic accident had shattered everything, leaving her world painfully silent.
She closed her eyes, whispering words too soft for anyone else to hear. Outside, a shooting star streaked across the night sky, illuminating the darkness for just a moment. Aria never saw it. By then, she had already drifted into sleep.
The next morning, Aria went to her parents' room to begin arranging their belongings. As she opened an old photo album, she smiled softly, her heart tugged by each memory captured on the worn pages. She became lost in the images, forgetting her task as the moments of the past came alive before her eyes.
She remembered everything—every laughter, every moment—except, of course, those from when she was still a baby. The longing pressed heavily on her, but the memories gave her strength, like fragments of light she could hold onto.
At last, she returned to her work. One box after another, carefully sorting and setting things aside. She was nearly finished when a small bronze box, old and antique-looking, caught her attention. It bore no lock. With curious hands, she lifted the lid.
Inside were uneven stacks of paper—letters, folded and worn with age.
"I think they wouldn't mind if I read it, would they?" she whispered, glancing toward her parents' things.
Drawn by curiosity, she unfolded the first letter.
Her eyes widened. Shock crossed her face, and then tears welled as she read line after line. By the end, she pressed the paper against her chest, clutching it as though embracing the words themselves. Her tears slipped down her cheeks, but her lips carried a trembling smile.
"I have someone I can go to now," she whispered. "There is still hope for me."
Letter
My Dearest Daughter,
It warms my heart to know that you and your family are finding strength and better days. How I wish I could visit your home and see the dear child who has brought you such pride and joy. Yet the long travel wears heavily upon me, as you know, and the distance between us has grown difficult with the passing years.
If ever you are in need, my doors are always open to you. I would be most glad to welcome you here, and it would bring me great happiness to meet my granddaughter at last. I have missed you both dearly.
A belated greeting for your birthday, my dear, and an early blessing for young Aria. May God keep you both in His care.
With all my love,
Florentina Corven
Without wasting another moment, Aria hurried to her room to pack her belongings. The letter had an address. She would go there—she must. She wanted to meet her grandmother, to feel the embrace of family once more, and to start anew under her care.
"There is hope," she murmured, smiling through tears as she folded her clothes into a large blue backpack. Her eyes scanned the room. What else should I bring?
"There!" She reached for a framed family photograph and slipped it carefully into her bag.
"Once I'm sure I can live with Grandma," she promised aloud, "I'll come back for Mom and Dad's things—and everything I've left behind." Conviction filled her voice. She believed the words of the letter. She believed her grandmother's love would embrace her, just as it once embraced her mother.
The sky outside was heavy and gray, clouds gathering as though rain threatened to fall. Taking an umbrella in hand, she set out toward the bus terminal.
The terminal bustled with noise, rows of buses lined up, their drivers calling out destinations. Aria paused, confused—so many vehicles, but which one would take her to Ashville?
She spotted an older man smoking a cigarette and approached him. "Excuse me," she said softly. "May I know which bus I should take if I am going to Ashville?"
The man raised a brow and looked her over carefully. "Young lady, are you sure you're heading there? It'll take a full day to reach that village. Your belongings seem rather small for such a journey."
Aria gave an awkward smile and rubbed the back of her neck. A whole day? I didn't think it would take that long. Still, she nodded. "Yes. I'm sure."
He gestured down the terminal road. "Go straight. You'll see an old bus at the end. Good thing you arrived today—there's only one trip a week, since so few passengers go there."
"Thank you for your help." Aria bowed politely before hurrying in the direction he pointed.
At the far end, she stopped short. The bus looked ancient, its paint faded and its body creaking with age.
"Is this… really working? It looks like it'll fall apart any minute," she muttered.
A voice suddenly came from behind, making her start. "This lad runs smoothly. We've been riding partners longer than I can remember."
An elderly man with squinting eyes stepped closer, patting the side of the bus affectionately, as if it were a loyal companion.
Aria flushed with embarrassment, realizing he'd heard her. "S-sorry," she stammered.
The man chuckled. "No need. Go on in—it's almost time to depart."
Inside, she found only two other passengers, quiet and withdrawn. She gave them a polite smile, but they only glanced her way before returning to their own thoughts. Feeling the awkwardness, Aria slipped into a seat at the very back. She hugged her backpack to her chest, clutching her umbrella, and let herself breathe.
Her journey had begun.