CHAPTER 12: A Missing Letter

The somber atmosphere of the memorial cemetery enveloped Chin as she handed over her parents' bodies to the earth. She sat in a corner, clad in a black tracksuit, devoid of emotion. Grieving women passed by, their eyes filled with tears, but as they moved away from her, gossip and judgment flowed freely. They accused Chin of lacking respect for her elders, of being cured of her parents' deaths, and even of being the killer herself, fueled by resentment for their strictness.

Amid the whispers and pointing fingers, Chin's indifference to the comments became a point of contention. She remained seated, seemingly untouched by their words. However, a few compassionate souls offered sympathetic glances her way, understanding that grief took many forms.

Weary of the judgments, Chin left the cemetery. Elly approached her, inquiring about her destination. Chin replied curtly, "I'm going to get some fresh air. I'll be back later." She ventured out, sitting on a bench under a palm tree. Lost in thought, she stared at her hands, contemplating the recent turn of events.

An elderly man with trembling hands sat beside her. In a soft voice, he asked, "Are you okay, kid? Is everything fine?"

Chin looked at him, tears glistening in her eyes, and whispered, "I don't know who you are, but you're the first person in my life who asked me if I was okay."

The old man handed her a handkerchief and said, "I'm sorry for making your eyes wet. I never meant to. After my wife passed away fifteen years ago, I come here every day, finding peace in the thought that many people lose their loved ones daily, yet life goes on."

Chin wiped her tears, her eyes still distant. She replied, "Their lives go on because they didn't lose their one and only. But I think your life is stuck because you only had one thing to lose—your wife. After that, you had nothing to lose except the sight of the people you see every day."

The old man smiled, and his eyes held a deep sadness. He said, "Do you think I have peace in my life?"

Chin shrugged, "I don't know, but it depends on your definition of peace."

"What's your definition of peace?" the old man inquired.

"For me," Chin said, her voice steadier, "peace is the midpoint between life and death, happiness and sadness, noise and silence, loss and gain. It's a place where there's no past or future. My mom told me when I was a kid that after death, the human brain remains active for ten minutes and thirty-eight seconds. So, I think that's the only moment when the human mind finds peace. But I'm not entirely sure if a person truly finds peace in that moment. What if they start thinking about their past or unfulfilled future dreams? Then that moment might become the most unpeaceful moment of their life. But you know what? I've planned not to think about anything during that time. I'll live my life to the fullest in those ten minutes and thirty-eight seconds."

Chin chuckled slightly, and it was the first time she had laughed like that. The old man rose from the bench, saying, "I don't know what happened in your past that made you like this, but you made me cry. The tears that fell from your eyes while you talked about those last ten minutes and thirty-eight seconds speak of your eagerness to find peace. I hope you find it even before that moment."

With those words, he walked away, leaving Chin deep in thought. After a while, she returned to the memorial center, her mind slightly eased.

Elly approached her, concerned, "Chin, I was so worried about you. I tried to find you everywhere. Where did you go?"

Chin, without answering, simply took Elly's hand and re-entered the room filled with guests. She sat down with Elly and began conversing in a hushed tone. Chin inquired Elly why she had been looking for her, and Elly explained that her family lawyer had come to meet her. Chin instructed Elly to inform the lawyer that she wasn't in a condition to talk and that she was returning home.

Despite Elly's protests, Chin left the gathering, ignoring the warning. Upon arriving home, she dialed a number, inquiring about a letter. The person on the other end informed her that the letter had been taken a few days ago by an unknown individual, leaving no record of the recipient. As she conversed on the phone, the scene shifted to Mr. Mark's office.

Mark sat in his office chair, holding a letter. He muttered to himself, "Why all this fuss over such a little thing?"