Calebs POV:
At 9 a.m., the girls arrived — Mya, Emily, Chloe, Tia, and Chantelle.
Each brought a casserole dish from their family.
Traditional. Gracious. Pack custom.
They offered their condolences and said they’d accompany us to the funeral.
I hadn’t spoken to most of them since my father’s death, but they understood.
We’d all been busy locking down defenses.
Hell, some of them were training to become warriors.
Emily especially — she was climbing the ranks fast.
We moved to the sitting room — a wide, open space that stretched across the west wing of the ground floor.
My mother joined us not long after.
We remained there until the ceremony, trading memories and stories of my father.
Some made us laugh.
Some made our voices crack.
Grief sat heavy, but we bore it together.
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