Meanwhile, Amelia climbed the stairs and entered a private wing of the villa. She reached a large wooden door and, with a soft knock, entered the room.
The atmosphere here was different—quieter, more sombre. The room was spacious yet cozy, with large windows offering a view of the gardens outside.
Her grandfather sat propped up in a bed near the window, his body frail and aged, his once-strong features now softened by the passage of time. But despite his weakened state, there was a noble air about him, a kind of quiet dignity that hadn't faded.
"Good afternoon, Grandpa," Amelia greeted warmly, her voice tender as she approached him. Her face softened with affection, but there was a hint of sorrow in her eyes as she saw him looking so weak.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up!