Teatime restored

Jules sat down listlessly at the dining table. Sleep wouldn't come to her again. Every day at 5 a.m., she woke up with a jolt—ever since her father passed away.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he had died early in the morning.

It had been five months. The shock of his sudden cardiac arrest had worn off, but the grief—it had no end. No respite.
She had returned to the office, offering herself and the family a semblance of routine. But it did nothing to ease her aching heart. She needed him every day. She missed him deeply.

She thought about their tea times—a ritual that had remained unchanged, even after she got married. Today, as always, she had made tea and automatically set out a second cup—his cup—his favorite one.
Memories surged. Before she could hold on to them, they all converged into that one moment. The moment everything was lost. The helplessness.
It shattered her again.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, holding first her cup, then his. The old mug—a constancy since childhood.

“He loved you, you know,” a deep voice said.

She startled.
“Who... who spoke?”

“Why, it’s me of course, dear.”
The cup—his cup—had eyes. And a mouth.

“I’m hallucinating. You... you can’t be real!” she gasped, withdrawing her hands.

“That’s just how he reacted the first time too. And his father before him.”

“He knew about you? But... what? How?” Her voice trembled, words slipping away.

“Let me show you.”

And then, the cup shimmered—projecting memories across its glazed surface. Her father as a child. As a young man. Holding the same cup. Laughing. Thinking.
Her childhood—tea rituals with him. Quiet moments. Meaningful talks.
And finally—a special message:

“When the day comes that she finds out about you and I’m gone, do tell her how very proud I am of the woman she’s become. And how much I love her.”

Tears streamed down her face. But for the first time since he left, Jules felt something different.
Maybe she didn’t have to carry the grief alone.
Maybe—she could carry a part of him with her.

Maybe, just, maybe, she would be ok.