The familiar creak of the old wooden floor greeted Mimi as she stepped into her hometown home. It had been seven long years since she last set foot in the place she had once called home, and yet every corner spoke to her in memories both warm and painful. The house was empty now, the silence almost deafening, a stark reminder that her grandmother, who had cared for her after her parents' death, had passed away in a sudden accident. Mimi's heart tightened as she carried her son, Chi-Chi, into the living room, carefully placing him on the sofa before starting to unpack their luggage.
The walls were bare, the rooms sparse, but as Mimi gently ran her hands over the familiar textures, she felt a strange mixture of comfort and sorrow. Sitting beside Chi-Chi, she watched him play with his small toys, the boy she had protected and loved fiercely for six years. His golden eyes sparkled with curiosity, a reflection of someone she once knew—someone she had loved silently from afar.
Lying back on the sofa, Mimi closed her eyes, memories cascading over her like an unstoppable tide. She remembered her parents, gone in a tragic accident when she was just a little girl. Her grandmother had raised her, filling the emptiness with care and stories of hope, yet the shadows of loss never left. And when her grandmother passed, Mimi felt the weight of the world pressing down. She was alone—but she had Chi-Chi, her living proof that life could continue, even after heartbreak.