The morning of the funeral was overcast, the gray skies mirroring the weight in Jade’s heart. She stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, her hands trembling as she tried to fix the black dress that seemed to cling too tightly to her grief. Her hair was loosely tied back, and her eyes were swollen from days of crying.
She reached for her grandmother’s favorite pearl necklace, fastening it around her neck. It was the last gift her grandmother had given her, and wearing it felt like carrying a piece of her to the final goodbye.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Jade turned to see Milan standing there in a sharp black suit. His icy-blue eyes softened as he took in her tear-streaked face.
“It’s time,” he said gently.
Jade nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’m not ready.”
“No one ever is,” Milan replied, stepping into the room. “But you don’t have to do this alone.”
The church was packed. Rows of people sat quietly, their heads bowed, the solemn sound of the organ filling the air. Jade sat at the front, surrounded by people she barely recognized—distant relatives, family friends, and neighbors she hadn’t seen in years.
Milan, Enzo, and Thiago sat a few rows behind her, their presence steady and reassuring. They hadn’t left her side since her grandmother’s passing, and while Jade was grateful, the weight of their support also felt overwhelming.
As the service began, Jade couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. She clutched the program tightly, her eyes scanning the photo of her grandmother smiling warmly on the cover.
When the priest began to speak, Jade’s mind drifted. She couldn’t focus on the words, her thoughts consumed by memories of her grandmother—her laughter, her warm hugs, the way she always knew what to say to make Jade feel better.
A loud sniffle from the row behind her snapped Jade back to reality. She turned slightly, her eyes narrowing as she recognized a distant cousin, Lily, dabbing her eyes dramatically with a tissue.
Jade clenched her jaw. Lily hasn’t visited Grandma in years, she thought bitterly. She didn’t even call when she was in the hospital.
The room was filled with similar faces—relatives who had always been too busy, too far away, or too uninterested to visit. And now, here they were, crying crocodile tears and pretending they cared.
As the service continued, a few family members were invited to speak. Jade stayed silent, her nails digging into her palms as cousin after cousin stood up, each recounting stories that felt hollow and forced.
“She was such a wonderful woman,” one said. “I regret not visiting her more often.”
“She was like a second mother to me,” Lily added, her voice breaking as she wiped away another tear.
Jade’s fists tightened in her lap. She wanted to scream. She wasn’t a second mother to you. You barely knew her!
After the service, everyone gathered at the gravesite. The wind was cold, tugging at Jade’s dress as she stood at the edge of the open grave. The priest said a few final words, and then it was time to lower the casket.
Jade’s knees nearly buckled as the casket descended, the reality of her grandmother’s absence hitting her like a wave. She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and turned to see Thiago standing beside her, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
“Breathe, Jade,” he said softly.
She nodded, though her breath came in short gasps.
Enzo stepped forward, placing a single white rose on the casket as it disappeared into the earth. He turned to Jade, his voice low. “You’re stronger than you think. She knew that, too.”
Jade bit her lip, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her own rose tightly. She stepped forward, her knees trembling, and let the flower fall.
“I love you, Grandma,” she whispered, her voice breaking.