Gram's

Weeks passed, and Isabella found herself sinking deeper into her grief, her world becoming a blur of memories and emptiness. She barely left the confines of her home, the weight of her sorrow too heavy to bear.

One day, as Isabella lay in bed, her stomach growled with hunger, a reminder of her neglect for basic needs. With a heavy sigh, she forced herself to get up, her movements sluggish and devoid of energy. She grabbed her car keys without a second thought, too numb to care about changing her clothes or brushing her teeth.

As Isabella stepped outside, her eyes glazed over with exhaustion, she noticed a piece of parchment fluttering on the windshield of her car. At first, she paid it no mind, her thoughts consumed by her own despair. But as the wind blew the parchment closer, curiosity stirred within her, prompting her to pick it up.

With trembling hands, Isabella unfolded the parchment, her eyes scanning the words with growing apprehension. It was a message from a solicitor, requesting a meeting to discuss her grandmother's affairs. Confusion and uncertainty gnawed at her insides as she struggled to make sense of the situation.

Lost in her thoughts, Isabella's phone rang, jolting her back to reality. It was Clay. Without hesitation, she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Clay, I... I don't know what to do," Isabella confessed, her words heavy with uncertainty.

Clay's voice came through the phone, calm and reassuring. "It's okay, Izzy. I'm here for you. Tell me what's going on."

Isabella explained the situation, her voice trembling with emotion as she recounted the solicitor's message. Clay listened attentively, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her despair.

After a moment of silence, Clay spoke up. "I'll come with you, Izzy. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

Tears welled up in Isabella's eyes, overwhelmed by Clay's unwavering support. "Thank you, Clay. I don't know what I would do without you."

As they hung up, Isabella's thoughts turned to her appearance and the state of her home. She realized she hadn't been taking care of herself or her surroundings, and the thought of Clay seeing her like this made her anxious. Determined to clean up before he arrived, Isabella hurried inside.

Once inside, she moved with purpose, cleaning herself up quickly. As she finished, she surveyed her home, noticing the clutter and disarray that had accumulated during her period of grief. She started to tidy up, but before she could make much progress, the doorbell rang.

Rushing to the door, Isabella peered through the peephole and saw Clay standing on the other side. Surprised by how quickly he had arrived, she hesitated, unsure of what to do. She didn't want him to see the mess, but she also didn't want to keep him waiting.

Gathering her courage, Isabella opened the door and greeted Clay, but before she could say anything, he spoke up.

"Hey, Izzy. Mind if I use your loo real quick?" Clay asked, oblivious to Isabella's inner turmoil.

Isabella hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She didn't want Clay to see the state of her home, but she also didn't want to make him wait. Before she could make up her mind, Clay reassured her.

"It's okay, Izzy. If your house is a bit untidy, mine is sometimes too. It's no bother," Clay said with a reassuring smile.

Relieved, Isabella stepped aside, allowing Clay to enter. As he walked in, Isabella couldn't help but feel self-conscious. She followed him to the bathroom, her anxiety mounting with each step.

As Clay opened the bathroom door, he was greeted by a sight that surprised him. The bathroom was spotless, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony.

"Wow, Izzy. This place looks like a pigsty," Clay joked, trying to lighten the mood. Isabella laughed, grateful for his attempt to make her feel better.

After using the bathroom, Clay emerged with a grin, ready to tackle whatever lay ahead. "Let's go," he said, his tone filled with determination.

Isabella nodded, her anxiety momentarily forgotten in Clay's reassuring presence. "Yeah, let's do this."

They made their way to the car, Clay unlocking the doors as Isabella slid into the passenger seat. Once settled, Clay glanced at her, concern etched on his features.

"Are you ready for this, Izzy?" he asked softly.

Isabella hesitated, uncertainty clouding her thoughts. "I don't know, Clay," she admitted, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Clay reached out, gently squeezing her hand. "I'm here with you, okay? Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

Isabella managed a weak smile, grateful for Clay's unwavering support. "Okay," she whispered.

With that, Clay started the engine, and they drove off, the weight of the unknown hanging heavy in the air.

They arrived at the solicitor's office, a grand building that loomed overhead. Isabella's heart raced as they parked and made their way inside, the anticipation building with each step.

To their surprise, the foyer was empty, the silence echoing off the walls. Isabella glanced around, her nerves on edge as she clutched the piece of parchment with the solicitor's instructions.

"Room 627," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clay nodded, his expression determined. "Let's go find it."

They made their way to the elevator, Isabella's breath coming in short gasps. Clay noticed her distress and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Breathe, Izzy. It's okay," he said soothingly.

Isabella nodded, closing her eyes as she focused on her breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

As the elevator doors opened, Isabella opened her eyes, relief flooding through her as she stepped out onto the 6th floor. Together, they searched for room 627, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

Finally, they found it, the door looming before them like a gateway to the unknown. Isabella took a deep breath, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle.

As Isabella pushed open the door, a man in a tailored suit turned to face them, his gaze piercing yet calm.

"I have been expecting you, Isabella," he said with a slight nod.

Isabella's heart raced, her mind reeling with questions. How did he know her name? What did he want?

"You're the one who left this at my door?" Isabella asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she held up the piece of parchment.

The man nodded. "Yes, I left it for you personally, but it seems you weren't home for the past four weeks," he replied matter-of-factly.

Isabella's brow furrowed in confusion. "That doesn't matter now. The only thing that matters is that you're here," he continued, his tone serious.

He gestured for them to sit down, and Isabella complied, her mind racing with apprehension. Clay

 remained standing beside her, his presence a silent source of support.

"I have to tell you a few things before we begin," the man said, his voice grave. "Firstly, don't tell anybody what I'm about to tell you. You can choose to do so, but from what I've seen and heard, you shouldn't. But ultimately, it's your choice."

Isabella nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling heavily upon her. "Okay," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the man.

"Or we can proceed," he said, his tone unwavering.

Isabella hesitated, glancing at Clay for reassurance. "Is it alright if he's here?" she asked tentatively.

The man considered her request for a moment before nodding. "Your grandmother says yes. Your name is Clay, right?" he asked, turning to Clay.

Clay nodded in confirmation. "Yes, that's right."

"Then let's proceed," the man said, his gaze shifting back to Isabella. "You can do whatever you want with this information, okay?"

Isabella and Clay exchanged a puzzled glance before nodding in agreement.

With a deep breath, the man began to speak, his words sending a chill down Isabella's spine. "I'm going to tell you why your grandmother killed herself."

Isabella's eyes widened in shock, her mind reeling at the revelation. "What? My Grams wouldn't do that," she protested, her voice trembling with disbelief.

The man remained composed, his expression unreadable. "If that's what you believe, it's fine. But I'm just here to tell you what she told me," he replied calmly. "Your grandmother hated herself for what she did when she was young. She broke someone, she hurt that person, and she's been punishing herself for that mistake ever since. It's a story, really. The story should be about her, but the person who wrote this is the boy she broke. He's the reason why your Grams punishes herself."

Isabella felt a wave of nausea wash over her as the man's words sank in. She struggled to comprehend the gravity of what he was saying, her mind racing with a million questions.

Clay placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. "Izzy, are you okay?" he asked softly.

Isabella shook her head, her thoughts in turmoil. "I don't know, Clay. I don't know."

The man, introducing himself as Ello, continued his narrative, his words like a heavy weight pressing down on Isabella's chest.

"This story is from one point of view, and it may make you cry. It hurts, but bear with me. Your Grams wasn't a good person for a long time. She changed herself, wanting to go back to the past, but she couldn't because the person she broke wasn't there anymore. You could say it's a love story, but it's one-sided. You could say it's a misunderstanding, but it isn't. This happened for a reason."

Before proceeding further, Ello pulled out two blank parchments and handed them to Isabella and Clay. Initially hesitant, they glanced at each other before finally signing them, driven by the desire to understand the truth behind Isabella grandmother's actions.

"Okay," Isabella said tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper as she handed back the signed parchment.

"Let's proceed," Ello declared, his tone resolute as he turned his attention back to Isabella.

But just as they were about to delve into the heart of the matter, Ello posed a question that caught Isabella off guard.

"What was your grandmother's name?" he asked, his voice echoing through the room.

Isabella's mind went blank, panic rising within her as she struggled to recall her grandmother's name. She turned to Clay, desperation evident in her eyes.

Clay furrowed his brow, trying to help Isabella remember. "Izzy, I'm not sure. What is your Grams' name? I can't remember it either."

As they exchanged confused glances, Ello's patience wore thin. "What was your grandmother's last name?" he demanded, his tone growing more urgent.

Suddenly, a name popped into Isabella's mind, seemingly out of nowhere. "Genesis," she blurted out, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Genesis," Ello repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

Before Isabella could comprehend what was happening, the room plunged into darkness. Panic gripped her as she frantically called out for Clay, but there was no response. She reached out, searching for him in the darkness, but her hands found nothing but empty space.

In the midst of her fear, Isabella noticed a faint light in the distance. With a glimmer of hope, she stumbled towards it, each step fueled by desperation.

Finally, her outstretched hand made contact with the light, and as she grasped it, everything faded away.

When Isabella opened her eyes, she found herself in an unfamiliar room, the events of the meeting with Ello fading like a distant dream. Confusion clouded her mind as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings.

"Clay?" Isabella called out, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

But there was no response. Isabella's heart sank as she realized she was alone in this strange place. She called out again, her voice echoing off the walls, but still, there was no answer.

Time seemed to stand still as Isabella's mind raced with questions and fear. What had happened to Clay? Where was she? And who was the mysterious man named Ello?

As if in response to her thoughts, Ello appeared before her, his presence both reassuring and unsettling.

"What's going on?" Isabella demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration.

Ello regarded her with a calm demeanor, his eyes holding a depth of knowledge that sent shivers down Isabella's spine.

"I'm giving you a chance to save your Grandmother," he explained, his voice carrying a weight of importance. "You will have five years to do so. You will keep your memories, but you are not allowed to talk about them. Because if you do, with a snap of my finger, you and the chances of saving your Grams will be gone, just like that."

Isabella's mind reeled at the gravity of his words. Five years to save her grandmother? And the consequences of failure were dire indeed.

"Who are you?" Isabella asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ello's lips curved into a faint smile. "Someone who knew the truth. In other words, a bystander. But I think it's time I stopped standing by and do something about it."

Isabella's brow furrowed in confusion. "Do something about what?"

Ello's gaze held a hint of mystery as he responded, "I made Him a promise."

Isabella's eyes widened with realization. "Him? Who are you talking about?"

Ello simply shook his head. "You will know when it's time. Just be yourself. In my opinion, the outcome will be the same, but everyone is different. So, we will see."

With that cryptic statement, Ello's form began to fade, and Isabella found herself once again enveloped in darkness.

"Till next time, Isabella. Or

 should I say, Genesis now," Ello's voice echoed in the void before everything dissolved into nothingness.