The funeral ended too quickly.
The priest’s voice still lingered in the damp air, low and reverent, while the last shovels of earth fell heavy over the polished coffin. Eve stood still, her hands clasped in front of her, a black scarf framing her face. Her posture was composed, every movement deliberate, though inside grief twisted sharp as broken glass.
Her grandmother’s name was etched into the stone, a clean line of permanence. Eve’s eyes lingered there, but her face betrayed nothing. Not even when the final prayer was spoken.
Her father stood beside her, stiff and silent, his jaw clenched every time a guest asked where Ryan was. The whispers floated like smoke through the small crowd.
“Why didn’t her husband come?”
“Where is Ryan Ashbrook?”
Every word pressed deeper into her fath
