Hmm
1543 Words
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The last day
And just like that… everything started moving too fast.
So fast.
So painfully fast.
The world didn’t stop for anyone…not even for death.
It had been a little over a week since Mr. Dary passed away, yet time felt strange. It stretched and collapsed, as if grief had swallowed the rhythm of the days. The house that once echoed with laughter, meetings, and the confident footsteps of a man everyone respected was now filled with silence so heavy, it could crush a heart.
Today was the day.
The day he would be put to rest.
The day they would lower him into the earth, and everything about him…the empire, the name, the stories…would be sealed beneath the soil.
The day he would go forever.
Never again to see his family. Never again to walk through the golden gates of his mansion. Never again to breathe the same air as those who once admired and envied him.
Everything he was… was now gone.
The man who was once the richest, the strongest, the most powerful, couldn’t even buy himself another second of life.
He was gone.
Just gone.
And the world kept turning.
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The Dary estate had never looked like this.
Everywhere you looked, black shimmered in quiet waves…designer suits, flowing gowns, wide-brimmed hats. Even grief here had a price tag. Expensive perfumes mixed with the smell of wet earth. A choir hummed a low, melancholic hymn as guests arrived one by one, their heads bowed, their faces solemn.
People with power.
People with money.
People who spoke with influence.
People who spoke with wealth.
They came not out of love, but out of legacy. Out of what Mr. Dary represented.
Money screamed through the air, loud yet meaningless…because the richest man among them now lay silent, helpless, motionless in a casket lined with velvet.
Even the wind seemed to respect the silence of that morning.
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Emilia Dary, the widow, sat near the front, shrouded in black lace. Her eyes were swollen, her lips trembled, and every breath came out in broken sobs. Her hands shook as she clutched the hem of her dress, as if holding onto fabric could keep her from falling apart.
She wasn’t just crying for her husband.
She was crying for something deeper. Something darker. Something that only she knew.
Her pain was raw…too raw for the public eye.
She screamed as if her soul was being torn apart, her voice echoing across the marble walls. People rushed to hold her down, whispering words like “It’s okay,” and “Be strong,” but she didn’t hear them. She didn’t care.
Her world had ended.
And though people assumed her tears were for her husband, they weren’t entirely. They were for the lies buried with him, the secrets he took to his grave, and the guilt that clung to her heart like chains.
She cried until her voice broke. She cried until she couldn’t see.
She was inconsolable.
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A few meters away, the sound of an engine hummed through the heavy air. Heads turned. The tension thickened.
A sleek, black car rolled slowly to a stop at the edge of the crowd.
From inside, a man stepped out first, hurrying to open the door.
Then, a woman’s foot touched the ground.
A woman in a plain, simple black dress…modest, almost too modest for the Dary name. Her heels clicked softly against the stone.
And just like that, whispers started rippling through the crowd.
Because everyone knew her.
Vivian Dary.
The only daughter of the late Mr. Dary
The one people blamed.
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Vivian stepped out completely now, the sunlight washing over her pale skin. Her hands trembled as she adjusted her veil. Her eyes were red, rimmed with sleeplessness and tears. But the thing that caught everyone’s attention wasn’t her dress.
It was her small, visible baby bump beneath the black fabric.
A quiet gasp spread among the guests.
Some muttered prayers. Others shook their heads.
And then came the stares…cold, judging, sharp enough to slice through her.
She knew exactly what they were thinking.
She’s the reason her father died.
That was the rumor everyone whispered. That Mr. Dary’s heart had given out the day he learned his daughter married Victor…the man everyone said had come from nothing, the man nobody in high society trusted, the man everyone thought had used her for her name.
Vivian’s heart hammered as she took a shaky breath.
She didn’t want to come. Every part of her told her to stay home, to grieve in private. But how could she? This was her father. Her hero. Her first love. Her protector.
She couldn’t miss his final goodbye.
So she came.
Even if it meant walking through a sea of hate.
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Victor stepped out from the car behind her…tall, poised, and emotionless. His black suit was perfect, his expression unreadable. There was no sadness, no sympathy. Just silence.
He stood by her side like a shadow, offering no comfort.
Vivian’s eyes found her mother.
Emelia was on the ground now, screaming, shaking, trying to reach the coffin. Her friends and mother Juliana held her, but she kept fighting them, shouting his name again and again.
Vivian’s throat tightened.
Her legs felt weak as she walked forward. Nobody stopped her. Nobody dared to speak. People simply watched, their gazes piercing through her as if her presence alone was disrespectful.
Her heart pounded as she reached the front.
The casket lay before her…massive, black, and polished, with a transparent panel that showed the man inside.
She froze.
Her breath hitched.
There he was.
Her father.
Her hero.
The man who once carried her on his shoulders, who kissed her forehead goodnight, who promised her that no one would ever hurt her.
Now, he lay there… still, lifeless, pale.
His lips were purple and stiff, his once-proud features now sunken and strange. He looked like someone who had been gone for years, not days. There was a coldness to him…a distance even death couldn’t explain.
Vivian’s knees buckled.
She fell beside the coffin, pressing her palm to the glass.
“Daddy…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Tears blurred her vision.
“I’m sorry,” she said again and again, even though she knew it was too late.
Nobody moved. Nobody comforted her.
Because in their eyes, she didn’t deserve to cry.
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The ceremony dragged on like a punishment.
The pastor spoke words that felt empty.
People sniffled, wiped their eyes, checked their watches.
Vivian barely heard a thing. Her world had gone silent, as if grief had filled her ears with water. The only thing she could see was her father’s face and the reflection of her tears on the glass.
When the coffin was finally lowered, she broke.
A scream tore through her chest.
Her body trembled as Victor pulled her back gently, but his face was blank, his hand cold. He looked at her not with empathy, but with quiet impatience.
And in that moment, Vivian realized…she was completely alone.
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The guests began to disperse.
Cars rolled out. Engines started. The air thinned.
Vivian stood still, frozen in place, until something caught her eye.
A familiar face in the distance.
Cecilia.
Her best friend.
The girl who once laughed with her until sunrise. The girl who knew her secrets, her fears, her dreams. The one person she thought would never leave her.
Vivian’s heart leapt for the first time all day.
Maybe…just maybe…she wasn’t alone after all.
“Cecilia!” she called out, her voice cracking through the quiet.
Cecilia turned slightly, her expression unreadable.
Vivian rushed toward her, hope flaring inside her chest. She reached for her hand, tugging gently.
“Cecilia, please…”
But Cecilia didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t even look at her.
Instead, she turned away, slipping her arm into her mother’s, and walked toward the car waiting for them.
Vivian stood there, frozen, her hand still in the air, trembling.
Tears blurred her vision.
Cecilia had been her safe place once. Now she was just another stranger who looked at her with disgust.
Vivian felt something shatter inside her chest.
The whispers around her grew louder again. She could feel their eyes on her, their judgment, their hate.
Victor approached, his hands in his pockets, his voice low and cold.
“Vivian, let’s go,” he said flatly.
She didn’t answer. Her body was stiff, her soul numb.
Finally, she whispered, “Please… drop me at my mom’s house. I need to be with her. She’s alone.”
Victor’s jaw tightened. He gave a small nod.
As they walked away, Vivian looked back one last time.
At the grave.
At the man who once was everything.
At the life that had crumbled in just one week.
And as the car drove off, she pressed her forehead against the glass, tears streaming silently.
The world outside blurred into grey.
Her father was gone.
Her mother was broken.
Her best friend had abandoned her.
And her husband…her supposed protector. was nothing more than a stranger sitting beside her in silence.
Everything moved fast. Too fast.
And yet… it felt like the rest of her life had just stopped.
- Writer
