Accidentally Yours

It had been raining since early morning. Not enough to stop the funeral. Just enough to make everything feel miserable. The grass was wet. The air was cold. And the black heels Anaya had spent a ridiculous amount of money on were slowly sinking into the ground. Of all the things to notice at her mother’s funeral, that was what her brain decided to focus on. Her shoes. Maybe because looking at the coffin felt impossible. She stared at it anyway. The thing was expensive. Everyone knew it. The funeral director had practically given a presentation about it a few days ago. Imported wood. Custom finish. Special interior. Anaya had stopped listening halfway through. Who cared? Her mother was inside it. That was the only part that mattered. A raindrop landed on her nose. She ignored it. Another landed on her cheek. Then another. At least nobody could tell if she’d been crying. Not that she’d cried much recently. Which felt wrong. People were supposed to cry when their mothers died. Instead she felt tired. Really tired. Like somebody had unplugged her from life three weeks ago and forgotten to plug her back in. The priest kept talking. She wasn’t listening. A bird somewhere behind her let out a loud screech. A few people turned. Anaya didn’t. Her eyes stayed on the coffin. On the white lilies sitting on top of it. Her mother loved lilies. There had been lilies everywhere growing up. In the house. In her office. On the dining table. Now she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at one without feeling sick. Beside her, Kathy shifted. “You need to eat something when we get back.” Anaya almost smiled. Almost. Trust Kathy to bring up food at a funeral. “I’m serious.” “I’m not hungry.” “You haven’t been hungry for three weeks.” Anaya looked away from the grave long enough to glance at her. Kathy was frowning. Actually frowning. Like Anaya was the problem here. Her mother had died. She felt like her world had ended. And somehow Kathy still expected her to care about lunch. The thought should have annoyed her. Instead it made her feel weirdly grateful. Because Kathy was acting normal. Everybody else had been treating her like she might collapse at any second. Kathy still treated her like Anaya. And right now that felt nice. Across the cemetery, people stood in groups under umbrellas. Board members. Investors. Family friends. People who had known her mother for years. Some looked genuinely upset. Others looked like they were already thinking about business. Anaya caught one man checking his phone. Another was whispering to somebody beside him. A woman from the board kept looking toward her and Kelvin. Like she was trying to figure something out. It made Anaya want to leave. The funeral wasn’t even over and people were already moving on. Her mother deserved better than that. “Anaya.” She knew that voice. Kelvin. Her stepfather. He came to stand beside her. Looking perfect as always. His suit probably cost more than most people’s rent. Not a wrinkle in sight. Not a hair out of place. Maybe that was why something felt off. Nobody looked that put together after burying their wife. Nobody. “How are you holding up?” he asked. The question annoyed her immediately. How did he think she was holding up? Her mother was being lowered into the ground right in front of them. How exactly was she supposed to be doing? “I’m fine.” Kelvin nodded. Like he believed her. Which annoyed her even more. Then Whitney appeared. Kelvin’s secretary. She carried a folder and an umbrella. Nothing strange about that. Except she went straight to Kelvin. Not Anaya. Not the family. Kelvin. “The lawyers just called,they are on their way to the estate,” she said quietly. Something changed in Kelvin’s face. Only for a second. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. Anaya did. Because it was probably the first real reaction she’d seen from him all day. “The lawyers?” he asked. Whitney nodded. “They’re waiting at the estate.” For some reason, that bothered Anaya. She couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the way Whitney looked at him. Maybe it was the way he looked back. Maybe it was the fact that talking about lawyers seemed to get more emotion out of him than watching his wife’s coffin disappear into the ground. Whatever it was, the feeling stayed. And as the funeral finally came to an end, that uncomfortable feeling followed her all the way back to the car. She didn’t know it yet. But before this day was over, she was going to find out that her mother had been keeping a secret for more than twenty years. And that secret was about to change everything.