one

I sat at the dining table, staring at the plates of steaming food I’d prepared earlier, and then at Grandpa. His weathered hands rested on the table, fingers lightly tapping as his eyes kept darting to the door. The nasal cannula in his nose hissed faintly, connected to the oxygen tank at his side. He wasn’t eating and hadn’t even picked up his fork.

The food sat untouched, steam curling into the air, its rich aroma filling the small dining room. I had spent the entire afternoon making Grandpa’s favorites—slow-cooked beef stew, mashed potatoes, and fresh cornbread. The kind of meal that used to bring warmth to our home, the kind that made even the coldest nights feel cozy. But tonight, the air was thick with an unspoken tension. Grandpa’s mind wasn’t on the meal in front of him—it was on Theo.

I could tell by the way he kept glancing at the clock above the doorway, his weathered face lined with hope, but also something else—something sadder.

I reached across the table and placed my hand over his, feeling the thin, fragile skin beneath my fingers. His veins were a network of blue rivers, his skin rough from years of hard work. “Grandpa, Theo will make it this time,” I said softly, squeezing his hand just a little. “I just spoke to him, and he promised. He’ll be here.”

Grandpa sighed, his chest rising and falling heavily with the effort. “Theo’s job keeps him too busy for his family these days,” he muttered, his voice laced with disappointment. “He was supposed to be here last week, too. And the week before that.”

I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t wrong. Theo had made promises before—dozens of them. And each time, something came up. A meeting, a late-night deal, an emergency at work. The same excuses, over and over again.

Still, I forced a smile, trying to inject some cheer into the room. “Well, he’s making time today. And besides, I’m almost done sewing your new suit. Just a few more stitches, and you’ll be looking sharp.”

Grandpa gave me a small smile, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “You’re always working on something for me, Ella. But I don’t even go anywhere these days.” His voice was soft, but the sadness in it was unmistakable.

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he deserved to feel good, to look good. But before I could, he sighed again and picked up his fork. “We should eat before the food gets cold.”

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, the front door creaked open. Grandpa’s eyes lit up, the tension in his face melting away.

A moment later, Theo walked in with the energy of a gust of wind, his grin wide and infectious. “Grandpa!”

His coat was unbuttoned, his tie loose, but somehow he still looked sharp—too sharp, like he belonged in a world so far from this little house.

Grandpa’s entire demeanor shifted. His frown disappeared, replaced with genuine warmth. “Theo,” he said, his voice soft but filled with relief.

Theo didn’t waste time. He leaned down and hugged Grandpa, wrapping him in a tight embrace that made my chest ache. Grandpa chuckled, patting Theo’s back with frail hands, his fingers trembling just slightly. When Theo finally pulled away, he turned to me, flashing a smile that made it easy to forget the months of silence between us. “Hey, Ella.”

“Hey,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. I wasn’t sure why I suddenly felt so self-conscious.

Theo plopped into the chair across from me, rubbing his hands together. “Wow, it smells amazing in here! Sis, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thanks,” I said, offering a small smile. “I’m glad you could make it. Grandpa’s been waiting for you.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He turned to Grandpa and grinned. “How are you doing, old man? Still keeping Ella in line?”

Grandpa laughed—a rare sound these days—and shook his head. “She’s the one keeping me in line, boy. Don’t let her fool you.”

Theo laughed, the kind of laugh that echoed through the room and filled it with life. I sat back and watched the two of them interact, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Relief that Theo was here, joy for Grandpa, but also a faint ache—one I couldn’t quite name.

Theo launched into a story about a big business deal he’d just closed, his voice animated as he described the negotiations. Grandpa listened intently, nodding along and offering the occasional word of encouragement.

I watched Theo, noting how he gestured with his hands, his confidence almost overwhelming. It had been six months since I last saw him, even though we lived in the same city.

Six months.

I’d even gone to his office once, hoping to surprise him. I’d stood in the sleek lobby, feeling out of place among the polished floors and leather furniture. When I called him, he sounded annoyed, telling me to wait at a café instead of coming up. I’d waited for almost an hour before he showed up, acting as if nothing was wrong.

But tonight, none of that mattered. He was here, sitting across from me, and for Grandpa’s sake, I was glad.

As we ate, Theo complimented the food, making jokes about how he needed to visit more often just to “get some real home-cooked meals.” Grandpa chuckled, but I caught the faint sadness in his eyes.

“You should visit more, Theo,” Grandpa said suddenly, his voice firm despite its weakness. “Family’s what matters most. You never know how much time you have left.”

The room grew quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over us.

Theo’s expression faltered, but only briefly. “I know, Grandpa. I’ll do better. Work’s just been… demanding.”

“Don’t let it consume you,” Grandpa replied gently. “There’s more to life than work.”

Theo nodded, though I wasn’t sure if he truly took the words to heart.

I watched him as he returned to his meal, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly elsewhere. Was he already thinking about his next deal? His next meeting?

I wanted to say something, to remind him that Grandpa wouldn’t be around forever. That this moment—this dinner, this laughter—mattered more than any business deal. But the words stuck in my throat.

For remainder of the night, I listened in as Grandpa and Theo chatted occasionally chiming in and joining the conversation