Just a short walk from Gracie’s apartment complex, Elizabeth meandered along a slim trail.
Surrounded by decades of history, the neighborhood’s structures were adorned with creeping ivy. Wafting through the air was the scent of home-cooked delicacies, punctuated occasionally by snippets of conversation emanating from the open windows.
In its quaintness, this locale offered a sense of warmth missing in the relentless hustle of larger cities.
Upon arriving at the gate, Elizabeth noticed several families lounging beneath the trees, engaged in after-dinner conversations.
A fat, elderly woman with streaks of gray in her hair leisurely waved her fan, saying, “It seems most of our longtime neighbors have departed. The younger ones taking their place only return late, weary from extended work hours. Soon, the evenings will be too quiet for a chat. After the news, it’s directly off to bed for everyone.”
A woman in her forties, swatting at a mosquito on her leg, retorted, “Oh, you’re missing the joy in life. Your son in Orkset bought a spacious house for you, yet you choose to stay. What pleasure do you find in these nightly chats? All I get are mosquito bites everywhere!”
The elder sighed, replying, “When you’re old, you yearn for your roots. Youth may enjoy the constant motion, but at my stage, I seek tranquility and steadiness.”
“Indeed, it’s difficult for the elderly to settle into new environments,” another slender senior added, edging closer. “Gracie from the third floor, always so strong, used to accompany me on morning walks for groceries. However, shortly after moving to Orkset with her granddaughter, she fell sick. Last I heard, she’s been hospitalized. It’s been a while since our last conversation—I do hope she’s alright.”
Gracie, the subject of their conversation, was none other than Elizabeth’s grandmother.
At the start, Elizabeth halted abruptly, feeling suddenly out of place about entering.
The woman in her forties ceased her battle with the mosquitoes, casting a significant glance around. “It’s not about adjusting difficulties. Orkset and Esterhall are mere miles apart, with hardly any difference in weather. To me, it’s clear—family issues are what’s troubling her.”
She paused, letting her words sink in.
With the group hooked on her words, she continued, “Her daughter died shortly after her wedding. Rumors swirled that her husband was unfaithful. All alone, she brought up her granddaughter.
That girl ended up in a rich family, yet she always came to visit her mother’s grave by herself, year after year. Has anyone ever even caught a glimpse of her husband? Clearly, her in-laws and spouse don’t appreciate her. Two generations facing similar misfortunes—it’s no surprise Gracie’s distressed.”
The last time Elijah joined Elizabeth for a visit to the cemetery, they opted not to stay at her childhood home, escaping the neighbors’ notice.
One neighbor after another began to speculate, saying, “It’s true, isn’t it? Elizabeth’s husband never accompanies her home. It’s obvious he has no regard for her. He can’t even be bothered to join her for a visit to her mother’s grave.”
“As men grow wealthy, their morals often diminish! A small-town girl like Elizabeth can’t possibly keep a big city boss under control.”
“Some might say they’re divorced already, which could be what’s troubling her grandmother.”
“I recall Elizabeth’s father kept a mistress—perhaps her husband follows in those footsteps.”
“Or perhaps he’s too hideous to bring home. Wealthy men aren’t known for their looks. He’s likely as attractive as a pig.”
Elizabeth, overhearing their wild conjectures, couldn’t help but twitch her lips in amusement. They weren’t entirely wrong, except about his appearance.
“Why are you lingering out here instead of going inside?” a familiar voice suddenly interrupted.
Startled, Elizabeth spun around.
The courtyard’s chatter ceased abruptly, the women staring in surprise.
Facing Elijah’s unexpected presence, Elizabeth managed a strained smile and approached the women. “Long time no see, everyone. I’ve just returned to pay respects at my mom’s grave.”
“You look lovelier each time, Elizabeth,” they responded casually, their curiosity piqued by the newcomer. “And who is this gentleman?”
With a courteous demeanor, Elijah introduced himself, saying, “Good evening, I’m Elijah, Elizabeth’s husband.”
Behind him, Oliver appeared, laden with thoughtful gifts.
Wrapping an arm around Elizabeth, Elijah’s affection was evident. “Elizabeth has always shared how supportive you’ve been. We thought we’d bring a few things to show our appreciation.”
Oliver distributed the items: fine tobacco, spirits, and health aids—lavish yet sensible.
The neighbors, accepting the offerings, exchanged bewildered glances.
Wasn’t this the man who supposedly cared nothing for Elizabeth? Wasn’t he supposed to resemble a pig?
