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# Chapter 132: A Letter in Spring
Eunser finished reading the letter by the riverbank, then made her way to her grandmother’s house. The paper no longer trembled in her hands. After reading it, something inside her felt lighter, unburdened. Her mother’s handwriting had touched not just her eyes, but her heart. As she walked along the riverside path back to her grandmother’s place, she found herself reading the letter again. Her mother’s tone, her emotions—all of it moved something deep within Eunser.
When she arrived at her grandmother’s house, Eunser was lost in thought about what her grandmother had asked her to do. She sat on the veranda and read the letter once more. This time, slowly. Deeply. She absorbed every word, every emotion her mother had poured onto the page. The scent of her grandmother’s cooking rice mingled with the sound of the river as she read.
Then Minjun’s hands came to mind. She remembered how they trembled. She had felt it, seen it. She understood it. Every time she witnessed that tremor, she felt his heart shaking too.
Eunser sat at her grandmother’s house, the letter resting in her lap. Her heart felt lighter now. The aroma of rice, the river’s whisper, the words on the page—everything wove together into something peaceful.
Her grandmother’s home sat close to the water’s edge, and eating here while the river sang its endless song brought Eunser a strange peace. She ate her grandmother’s rice and thought about the letter. It held Minjun’s heart within it. He understood her, and she understood him.
“Eunser, don’t read while you eat,” her grandmother said gently, approaching her. “The letter is important, but the meal comes first.” Eunser folded the letter away and finished her rice, but her mind lingered on Minjun’s words.
“Did you finish?” her grandmother asked. “Yes, Grandmother,” Eunser replied. Now she could read the letter again, slowly, letting each word sink deeper.
She thought of Minjun’s trembling hands. She understood now—they trembled because his heart trembled. And her heart trembled in response.
“Why does his hand shake?” she wondered aloud. “What is he afraid of?” But she already knew. He was afraid because he cared. His fear was proof of his love.
Eunser left her grandmother’s house as the sun began to soften. She thought of Minjun waiting for her reply. She would write to him. She would tell him that she understood. That she felt it too—this trembling of the heart that came with caring for someone.
“Eunser, remember—letters matter,” her grandmother called after her. “They carry what words alone cannot.”
She walked along the river path, the letter folded carefully in her pocket, and smiled. Spring was here. And with it, the promise of something new—something that began with trembling hands and a letter written with all the heart could hold.