Novelas y relatos de My Grandmother's Hands Audiobook

However, this extremely beautiful image makes the figure of Grandfather Gray waiting alone even lonelier. "You come. Wash your hands and have a seat!" Grandfather Gray is still grave and dignified, but his eyes are warm as he looks at Nina Morrison and Nelson. Nelson throws himself into Grandfather Gray's arms adorably. He calls him "Great Grandpa" many times that makes Grandfather Gray grinning like a flower.

“Liana, I just remembered that black Rolls-Royce is actually mine. It’s been sitting in the garage so long, I forgot all about it… The color is just too ugly. No wonder I couldn’t remember it.” I chuckled helplessly and was about to speak, but Preston beat me to it. Frowning, he gave Grandpa a once-over and asked irritably, “Who in the world are you, old man?” Ernest stared at Preston in shock, as if he could not believe what he had just heard. Meanwhile, George had gone deathly pale. He was mumbling nonstop, “It’s over… We’re doomed…” Grandpa kept his face impassive. “You claimed you were the chairman’s grandson, and yet you don’t even recognize your own grandfather?”

But she smiled, and that was enough. I approached and knelt beside her, taking her hand carefully. It was fragile and cold, but it was still hers. Still my grandmother’s — the same one who was abandoned by her own daughter one day. I identified with her because her daughter had also had the courage to abandon her own daughter, and now she was slowly dying, forgetting everything. “Hi… it’s me. Aurora.” I smiled with watery eyes. “I came to see you.” She said nothing. Just looked at me and, in a slow gesture, lifted her hand to my face. The touch was almost imperceptible, yet so full of meaning.

I vowed to repay this kindness, so at least we would be equal in our relationship. But my grandmother still passed away. She had toiled for most of her life. Nothing could keep her, and she left nothing behind. Well, not quite. She left an old journal. My grandmother wasn't well-educated. The book was filled with her crooked handwriting, some with phonetic spellings, some misspelled. It recorded every detail of my life from age one to college. This journal contained the true traces of my life.

My grandmother replied in a calm voice, her arms folded across her chest. I saw the pain flash in Odette's eyes as she instinctively gripped my arm tighter. Her throat shifts rhythmically as if battling to swallow something down. Her bright mood shifted, and her face slowly fell into sadness, and it angered me. “That’s not how it should m be. You just need to get to know her more and you'll see how amazing she truly is." But my grandmother just shrugged and said, "But I don't have that much free time to learn new people."

Adrien held my hands and led me towards his grandmother's room; it was like we were walking through a maze at this point before we finally arrived and his grandmother's room. "Grandmother, it is me,” Adrien said as he knocked on the door. "Ooh, my dear, come in” a week ago, but an excited voice sounded from the other side of the door, and Adrien opened it. We walked in and I saw his grandma; she had ninety percent white hair, and she looked so weak; all the fat had gone away from her body, and she looked like she had one foot in the grave already; technically, she did so.

However, he snapped at me before I could even speak, "Audrey, didn't I tell you I was busy? Why do you keep calling me?" My voice trembled as I choked with sobs, "Hunter, Grandma's dying. Can you—" Before I could finish speaking, Hunter interjected, "Stop it, Audrey! How dare you lie about something like this! I'm very busy today, so let's talk about it tomorrow." Before the call ended, I heard Sarah Moore's voice. She was calling Hunter, "Honey," intimately. My grandmother immediately noticed that I was upset. She gently stroked my hair, just like she did when I was a child and said softly, "Audrey, my greatest wish in this life is to ensure your happiness. I'll always be with you no matter

she yelled angrily, raising her hand to slap me. I grabbed her hand and twisted it forcefully, and she screamed like a pig that's being slaughtered. “What is going on here?” An old, husky voice came from the stairs, and I turned to see my grandmother standing there with a frown on her face. She looks really pale, and one didn't need to think too much to know that she was sick. She had passed away two weeks after I came back from the countryside in my past life. So looking at her now, she only has a week left to live.

She stops at the door and points to my grandmother laying on a table in the room, her body covered in a white sheet from head to toe. I walk to the bedside with shaky legs and the moment I take the sheet off and set my eyes on her pale face, I burst out into a loud sob, wishing I could go back to a month ago so I can prevent that accident that made her this way. The accident that took my only living family away from me. “Grandma…” I call in a broken voice as I reach for her hand. They are too cold, so lifeless and the tears begin to leave my eyes in torrents as I remember how warm these hands used to be when they held my face.