While she was reading aloud to her blind grandfather, 12-year-old Sophie stumbles upon a weathered letter tucked inside the pages of a long-abandoned book—one her grandfather never had the courage to revisit. As she begins to read its sorrowful contents, she uncovers a long-buried love story… and a revelation that could alter everything she thought she knew. Sophie sat cross-legged at the foot of her grandfather’s bed, bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight streaming through the partially drawn curtains.
The comforting aroma of aged paper and mint tea lingered in the room as her fingers brushed over the raised lettering on the cover of The Count of Monte Cristo. “Are you ready, Grandpa?” she asked, glancing at the elderly man resting against the pillows. Grandpa Walter’s cloudy eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
“Always ready for an adventure, my little bookworm. I used to read to you, and now you read to me.”
“And I love doing it, Grandpa,” Sophie replied. At twelve, Sophie had taken on the role of guardian of their cherished routine.
With her parents often away at work, she spent her afternoons with Grandpa Walter—something she’d been doing since she was little enough to curl up in his lap. In those early days, it was his voice that made the stories come alive. But since losing his vision four years ago, their roles had quietly shifted.
Sophie opened the book and thumbed through the pages, searching for the spot where they had stopped reading the day before. “You know, Grandpa,” Sophie said thoughtfully, “Dantès spent years planning his revenge… but in the end, he let some people go. Some didn’t even say sorry.
Isn’t that unfair?”
Grandpa Walter considered this. “Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it? He thought revenge would bring him peace, but in the end, it was forgiveness that set him free.”
“As for fairness… sometimes letting go isn’t about justice.
It’s about choosing peace over the past.” He sighed. “A lesson I took a long time to learn.”
Sophie looked at her grandfather. She wanted to ask what he meant, but his expression had turned distant and troubled.
“Sophie, I think we’ve read The Count of Monte Cristo one too many times.” Grandpa gave a faint smile. “Why don’t we read something new? Check the closet.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
