"Red?" Rosette called softly when the silence between them stretched too long. She took a hesitant step toward the gate. For a moment, she thought he had already gone—perhaps offended by what she said. The thought made her chest tighten. Maybe too much had changed between them since that tragic night years ago.
"I'm still here," Dranred finally answered, his voice low.
He had been standing there all along, studying her face. So much had changed. The girl he once carried on his back was now a woman—stronger, wiser, yet still fragile in ways that broke his heart. He noticed the flicker of emotion on her face the moment he didn't respond—the hint of sadness that told him she feared he'd walked away.
"I thought you'd left," she said with a small, uncertain smile. "You went quiet all of a sudden."
"I was just… thinking," he said.
"Thinking about what?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Back when I played baseball, you used to say you were my number one fan. Is that still true? Even now that I play basketball—and after everything you've learned?"
Rosette smiled faintly. "Nothing has changed. I still admire you. When I used to watch you on the mound, it felt like looking at a bright star, even under the blazing sun. Now, I can't see you play anymore, but when I hear the cheers from the crowd… I can imagine you perfectly."
"That's what you really think?" Dranred asked, a note of disbelief softening his voice.
"Of course," she replied. "I'm happy every time I listen to your games. I may not see you, but in my mind, I can picture the way you move—the confidence, the energy. You sound like someone doing what he loves."
Dranred's expression warmed. "The finals are in three months. If we make it that far, we might face your brother's team again. Would you come and watch us live?"
"That depends," she said quietly. "James would never agree to it."
"That's a shame," Dranred murmured. "I'd play better if my number one fan were there."
"I'll ask Estelle to come with me," Rosette offered, trying to sound hopeful.
"That would be nice," Dranred said with a small smile. "If Estelle came too…"
His voice softened at her sister's name—too tender, too wistful. Rosette's smile faltered. A sudden ache spread through her chest. She didn't understand it completely, but hearing that yearning tone in his voice—reserved for someone else—hurt more than she expected.
"Ah," Dranred said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small cellphone and held it between the bars of the gate.
"I want to give this to you. My number's already saved there, so you can call me anytime."
Rosette frowned slightly, running her fingers over the unfamiliar shape. "What is this?"
"A cellphone," he said simply.
"A cellphone?" Her tone turned a little sharp. "You're giving me a phone? Are you mocking me? You know I'm blind."
"Of course not," Dranred said quickly, shaking his head though she couldn't see it. "I just thought… if there's news about your donor, I could reach you faster. I don't know your house number, and I'm sure Estelle or James wouldn't give it to me."
Rosette sighed softly. "And how exactly am I supposed to use this if I can't see?"
"It's easy," he said.
Taking her hand gently, he guided her fingers to the hinge of the phone. "You just open it like this," he said as he helped her flip it open. "And when you hear it ring, press this button."
He placed her finger on the raised green key — the call button shaped like a tiny phone. It was an older model, simple and tactile, one she could navigate by touch.
"See? Not so hard," Dranred said with a small smile.
Rosette nodded. "I think I got it."
"Let's try it." He stepped back and dialed her number. Moments later, a ringtone played softly in her hand. Following his instructions, Rosette pressed the button and lifted the phone to her ear.
"This way," Dranred's voice came through the line, warm and teasing, "I can talk to you whenever I miss you."
Before Rosette could respond, the line clicked — he had already hung up. She smiled despite herself. "Thank you… for this."
"When you want to call me," he said, guiding her hand once more, "press this key. Number one — I set it on speed dial. Just one press."
Rosette nodded again, feeling the embossed number under her fingertip.
"Call me anytime," Dranred said softly. Then his tone shifted, quieter. "I just wish… James and I could fix things. It would be nice if he could forgive me."
Rosette smiled faintly. "Give him time. When he's ready, he'll talk to you."
Their hands brushed briefly as he stepped back. For a moment, Dranred looked at her — really looked at her — and wondered when the little girl he used to carry on his back had turned into this composed young woman who could still see the good in him when no one else did.
The faint echo of Dranred's footsteps faded beyond the gate, leaving only the soft hum of the evening breeze. Rosette stood still for a while, her hand resting on the cold iron bars where he had stood moments ago. The faint warmth from where he'd guided her hand lingered on her skin, stubbornly refusing to fade.
She turned the small cellphone in her palm, tracing its smooth edges with her fingertips. "Silly," she whispered to herself. "Giving a blind woman a phone." But the smile tugging at her lips betrayed the teasing in her voice.
For years, she had tried to keep her world small and simple — safe. Everything beyond the garden fence was chaos, filled with memories and people she couldn't face. And yet… every time she heard his voice, something in her heart stirred. Something restless.
Rosette pressed the phone to her chest, feeling the faint warmth it still held from his hands.
"Call me anytime," he had said.
She could almost hear the way his voice softened when he said it — gentle, unsure, as if he was afraid she would refuse.
It had been years since she'd thought of him this way — not as the boy her brother once trusted, nor the grandson of the man who destroyed their family. But as Dranred, the boy who used to lift her onto his shoulders so she could "see the world," even if she was already blind.
A quiet laugh escaped her lips, half nostalgia, half ache.
She wondered if he still smiled the same way when he won a game — that quiet, dimpled grin that always made her feel like sunlight had touched her face.
She wondered why her chest felt tight now, as if she'd been holding her breath the entire time he was there.
"Why does it hurt?" she murmured softly. "Why do I feel… this?"
For the first time in years, Rosette didn't feel trapped by the darkness that surrounded her.
She felt seen.
And maybe, she thought as she closed the flip phone and held it tightly in her hand — Maybe, the person she needed to forgive wasn't just him.
Maybe, she had to forgive herself too — for still caring.