The Summer He Never Spoke About - The Story That Had to Wait Until Night - Part 4

 “I…” Grandpa began.

Then suddenly—

“Appa! Tea is getting cold!”

The voice came from inside the house.

Both of them turned their heads toward the doorway.

The boy groaned immediately.

“Oh come on…” he muttered under his breath.

Grandpa smiled.

“Your grandmother has very good timing,” he said.

But before the boy could protest—

Another voice came from inside.

“And you! Come inside and wash your hands. Dinner will be ready soon!”

The boy dropped his head dramatically.

“Why does this always happen at the best part?” he complained.

Grandpa folded his newspaper slowly, still smiling.

“Stories,” he said calmly, “don’t run away.”

“But the moment was getting interesting!” the boy argued.
“You were about to say whether you followed her!”

Grandpa stood up carefully from his chair.

“At this age,” he said, stretching his back slightly,
“if I stand too long, I might run away before the story ends.”

The boy laughed despite himself.

---

Inside the house, the smell of food had already filled the air.

Plates were being placed on the table.

Grandma looked at them both suspiciously.

“What were you two whispering about outside for so long?”

The boy instantly looked at Grandpa.

Grandpa calmly pulled a chair and sat down.

“Just old stories,” he said.

Grandma shook her head.

“That man and his memories,” she murmured, placing food on the plates.

The boy almost burst out laughing.

If she only knew.

---

Dinner was quieter than usual.

But the boy couldn’t stop looking at Grandpa every few seconds.

Grandpa noticed it.

“Eat,” he said calmly.

“I am eating,” the boy replied quickly.

But his mind was somewhere else entirely.

---

Finally, after what felt like the slowest dinner in history, the boy rushed to finish his food.

Grandma looked at him.

“Why are you eating like someone is chasing you?”

The boy wiped his mouth.

“No reason.”

Grandpa almost laughed.

---

Later that night…

The house slowly became quiet.

Lights turned off in different rooms.

The night air became cooler.

Crickets began their steady song outside.

The boy quietly stepped out into the veranda again.

Grandpa was already there.

Sitting in the same chair.

As if he had never moved.

---

“You came,” Grandpa said without looking at him.

“Of course I came,” the boy replied immediately.
“You left the story at the most important part.”

Grandpa chuckled softly.

“Young people have no patience.”

The boy pulled a chair closer and sat down.

“Okay,” he said eagerly.

“Continue.”

---

Grandpa looked up at the sky for a moment.

The stars were clearer now.

“Where was I?” he asked.

The boy didn’t even hesitate.

“She walked out of the church… turned left…”

“And you said—”

The boy leaned forward again.

“You…”

Grandpa nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

He folded his hands together.

“I followed her.”

The boy slapped his knee.

“I knew it!”

Grandpa smiled.

“But I didn’t follow her the way you think.”

The boy frowned again.

“What do you mean?”

Grandpa’s eyes returned to the distant past.

“Because when I stepped outside…”

He paused.

“…something unexpected happened.”

---

The boy blinked.

“What happened?”

Grandpa exhaled slowly.

“The first time…”

“…she actually looked at me.”