Chapter 778: Sorry, Ms. Davies, but you can’t enter here anymore.
The car pulled up to stop outside the East Serenity Residence. The same familiar iron gates were looming like silent guards. The air felt heavy —too still, too quiet —as though the house itself was holding the breath.
Arwen sat in the back seat. Her eyes staring blankly at the gates that had once been a mark of warmth, safety, and countless cherished moments. But now they were only reminding her of the bitter truth waiting inside. Her fingers clenched around the fabric of her dress, her knuckles turning white in effect.
Aiden stepped out first and opened the door. The cool breeze brushed against her face, carrying the faint scent of wet earth and old roses —Granna’s favourite.
The scent alone nearly undid her. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to move forward.
As her heels clicked softly against the cobblestone path, every step toward the entrance felt heavier than the last.
She had walked these steps a thousand times before. Sometimes laughing. sometimes sulking after a scolding. But never like this —never with this kind of hollow ache inside her chest.
The front door opened before they reached it. And Margaret stood there, her eyes red and puffy, as if she had been crying for hours. When her gaze landed on Arwen, she immediately stepped forward.
"Arwen ..." she whispered, her voice breaking on the name.
Arwen paused. She didn’t know how to respond —what to say. She didn’t have it in her to face the reality, even though she had accepted it. The condolences in Margaret’s eyes just made her hesitate —hesitate from facing the truth for real.
Maybe Aiden felt it. He placed a reassuring hand on her back, grounding her. She turned to look at him, and he gave her a small nod.
Arwen turned back to Margaret. She opened her mouth and tried to ask, but the words simply didn’t come out. However, Margaret still understood.
"She is inside," Margaret managed to say through a shaky breath. "They ... they have placed her in the main hall for everyone to pay their respects."
Arwen’s eyes at once moved to look behind her towards the main hall. The curtains were drawn, and there were faint murmurs of people coming through, but she barely heard anything. Her heart was thundering too loudly.
As she stepped past the threshold, memories flooded her — Granna teaching her the little things about business, making sarcastic but humorous remarks, teasing her over little things... everything.
She followed the faint glow of candles to the main hall. The moments he saw the coffin draped in white lilies —Granna’s favourite flower —her breath hitched.
She walked closer until she was very close to the foot of the casket. No one stopped her. They all stood at the side and watched.
Arwen stared at her grandmother; her vision was getting blurry due to the tears that were brimming in her eyes. But she didn’t have it in her to blink her eyes or wipe them away. Her throat burned. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Grief didn’t always come like a scream. At times, it came in silent, suffocating and all-consuming form. Like the one Arwen was experiencing.
Aiden started a respectful distance behind her, ready to step in if she faltered, but not daring to intrude on this moment.
Margaret stood at the side, her expression soft with the same shared sorrow.
It took a while, but Arwen finally moved forward. Her hand trembled as she reached out to brush the edge of the casket. Her knees gave away, and she slowly knelt down, resting her forehead against the polished wood as silent tears fell.
"I am sorry, Granna. I don’t hate you. I never did," she whispered hoarsely. "I only loved you. Loved you ... a lot. Can you hear me? Please tell me you do."
But the silence in the air only told Arwen that she would never get the reply. Because her Granna was no longer there to respond. Her body had long turned cold, and her soul had already left this realm.
A warm hand pressed against her shoulders, and she turned to glance —only to find Idris standing behind her with a soft gaze.
"Dad, Granna —"
Idris crouched down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, cooing her softly. "It’s fine, princess. Your Granna was there with you when you needed her. If she left today, it means she was confident that you could manage even without her. She didn’t leave you lonely. So, don’t cry and make her feel like she wronged you. Her soul would feel hurt seeing you like this."
"But Dad ... I still needed her. I will always need her."
"You will," Idris said, his voice calm yet firm. "But princess ... you need to understand that not everyone can stay with you forever. We all have to part from each other someday. If we do that without crying, that would be more reassuring ... better for them."
He understood his daughter’s bond with her grandmother and the depth of her pain. But there were some truths even love couldn’t change.
Arwen glanced back at Brenda’s cold frame and slowly nodded. The tears remained in her eyes, but she tried her best to hold herself together.
At this moment, the sharp sound of heels clicking against marble echoed from the entrance. Margaret turned to look, and her brows furrowed when she saw it was Catrin, who arrived.
She quickly turned to the men stationed nearby and gave a discreet cue. They nodded and immediately stepped forward, forming a barrier to block Catrin’s way.
Catrin frowned when that happened. Drawing her brows tight, she demanded sharply, "What’s the meaning of this? Are you stopping me from seeing my mother for the last time? Move aside."
She ordered; however, the men didn’t budge.
"I said ... move aside!" Her sharp snap drew everyone’s attention, including Arwen and Idris, both of whom turned to look.
Margaret too stepped forward.
"Sorry, Ms. Davies," Margaret said, her tone polite, though laced with the unmistakable edge of resentment. "But you can’t enter here anymore. Madam asked us to refrain from letting you into this place or allowing you to see her for the last time."