The grandson stood at the very edge of the pier, grinning like a boy about to pull off something clever.
Grandma, remember how you said you never learned to swim?” he teased. “Maybe today’s the day.”
She adjusted her headscarf with trembling fingers and stared at the lake. The water looked dark, almost metallic under the gray sky.
“I’m afraid of water,” she said quietly. “You know that. Don’t joke like this.”
“Stop being dramatic,” he laughed. “You’re just working yourself up.”
SheShe disappeared.
When she broke the surface, her face had changed. This wasn’t embarrassment. This was terror.
“Help… I can’t—” she gasped, swallowing water mid-sentence.Her hands scraped desperately against the slick wooden boards of the pier. The wet planks offered no grip. Her soaked dress dragged her down. She coughed, choked, went under again.
On the pier, there was laughter.
“Film it, film it! This is epic!” her daughter-in-law called, already holding up her phone
