Chapter 2 Let Me Disappear

Ann walked past the man, a figure who had never been more than a faint shadow in her life. There was no attempt to sneak a glance, not even a brief one, at the face behind the expensive suit and leather shoes that looked so flawless under the dim glow of the streetlights. Her head remained down, her eyes fixed on the frozen ground, hardened by the cold of the night.

The man, as always, stood in his place, silent and unmoving, as if his presence were nothing more than a statue that adorned the silence of the alley. No words were spoken, and no gestures were made to imply any connection between them.

The cold wind slipped between them, carrying the scent of snow that never seemed to melt the distance between them. It was as if the silence itself was an invisible bond, yet real-a form of communication they both understood, but without words.

Ann continued walking, her steps steady but slow, leaving prints in the snow that were soon covered again by the white flakes falling from the sky. Once again, they parted without a single word, like two shadows that briefly crossed the same world-side by side for a moment, then vanishing without a trace.

The silence in the alley remained, a mute witness to their nameless encounters.

A timely bus took her to the large hospital with the best services, and a large sign reading "Montan Hospital" could be seen even from a hundred meters away.

After getting off the bus and walking a few meters from the bus stop toward the warm entrance of the hospital, she headed straight for the ICU ward where her grandmother was being treated. However, oddly enough, the familiar soft figure she longed for was no longer in the ward she frequently visited, replaced by someone she didn't know.

"Sorry to disturb you. I hope your family recovers soon," Ann said softly, turning slowly and walking away.

The people sitting in the ward were initially surprised but quickly calmed down and packed up to leave, as visitors were limited to two people.

Ann walked past each open ward, occasionally peeking into those that had curtains drawn. The sounds of infusion pumps and ventilators echoed through the ICU. Not finding her grandmother, Ann finally made her way to the nurse station and politely asked, "Excuse me, I can't find my grandmother. Her name is Lulu Walters, 74 years old. Could you help me find her ward?"

The nurse, dressed in light blue scrubs, exchanged looks with her colleagues. Their smiles vanished upon hearing the request, but one of them quickly smiled and said, "Please wait a moment. I'll check the medical records."

"Thank you." Ann stood still, watching the nurse as she glanced at the computer screen.

About two minutes passed, and the sound of paper slowly coming out of the printer broke Ann's reverie. She looked up, turned her head, and saw a nurse walking toward her with a calm stride. The nurse exhaled softly, a faint scent of alcohol lingering in the air as her delicate hand extended a piece of paper toward Ann.

"Sorry for the late notice. We contacted your number on November 12, but it seems there was an issue-"

"Sorry, I may have missed it. So, where is she?" The voice broke off, as Ann's face turned pale as snow, her cheeks reddening. Her nose and ears felt stiff, even though the room was warm; her body couldn't process the comfort.

The nurse gently patted Ann's small shoulder, her eyes shifting to the piece of paper that Ann was now clutching tightly in her hands, which were trembling. Ann lowered her gaze, her fingers shaking as she opened the letter-a real piece of paper recording the unavoidable news.

Her slender fingers trembled violently, almost unable to hold the paper. Her lips were clenched, her eyes vacant, as though the world that had once been so alive had now disappeared. After a moment, her breath caught, and her voice was barely audible. "Has she been buried?"

The nurse looked on anxiously, watching Ann suddenly become trapped in silence, no longer giving them the warm gaze she once had. "The address is on the letter, and-" The sentence stopped when Ann turned, her steps quick and silent. The nurse could only sigh as she watched Ann disappear behind the door. The room returned to its busy state, the activities continuing, but nothing could alter the atmosphere wrapped in silence.

***

"Call this number if you need help; don't stay outside too long; the snow is heavy!" A male driver shouted loudly at the girl who was running after receiving his business card. The elderly driver just sighed, closed his car window, and drove off.

Ann walked slowly, searching for the grave with her grandmother's name. She followed the information on the worn piece of paper, moving further until her eyes found her grandmother's lonely grave. She knelt down and bowed her head.

"Grandma..." The single word slipped from Ann's lips, faltering, hanging in the air. There was nothing more she could say. All that she wanted to express, all that she wanted to ask, was now buried with the one who should have heard it. Only that one word-and it was enough to tear her heart into tiny fragments that could never be put back together.

"Why? Why? I've been waiting for you!"

She had imagined this day-the day when she could sit beside her grandmother, talking without hurry, without the fear that their time together was running out. She wanted to tell her everything: about the hardships they faced, about her father, who never complained even as the world kept weighing him down. She wanted to beg her grandmother to hold on so they could leave this city together and live out simple days in a small village, far from the bustle of suffering.

But all of that was just a dream. A dream now buried with her grandmother's body. Reality hit her-flat and cold. After her grandmother's departure, there was nothing left to fight for. All her suffering, all her sacrifices... for what?

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry, Grandma, please forgive me..."

Ann fell to her knees before the simple grave, her hands trembling as they touched the still-wet earth. Her tears flowed without stopping, soaking her cheeks, frozen by the cold air. She bowed, letting the pain she had been holding back break free in the silence. In her heart, she spoke with desperation, with shattered hope, as if her grandmother could hear every word she poured out.

But only silence answered, leaving Ann alone with a wound that could never be healed.

Buzz... buzz... buzz...

Her phone vibrated, the screen displaying a phone number starting with 0027. Ann didn't answer and didn't even look at the phone in her hand. She took a deep breath and stepped away from the grave, the snow continuing to fall, turning her black hoodie white. Her sharp fingers pulled on the gloves she had taken from the pocket of her hoodie.

On the quiet, long road, she found an old bus stop. She sat and leaned against the sturdy wall, covered with various legal and illegal flyers.

By 7:11 a.m., the sun began to show its warmth. However, Ann chose to stay in her shabby house, a place that had once witnessed the happiness of her family. But now, she was the only one left-her father and grandmother had gone far away, while her mother had long since left to live happily with her rich family.

"Please let me disappear!" Ann muttered, her face feeling warm, her head spinning.

She had always thought of herself as a child of snow, believing that even if she slept outside, she wouldn't get sick the next day. Ann usually made compresses only for herself when she felt ill, but this time, she had no desire to care for herself.

Bang... bang... bang...

Loud knocks echoed on the door, shaking the whole room. The sound was followed by a low, familiar voice-cold and full of threat.

"Ann, open the door. I know you're in there."