CHAPTER 7: ASHES AND SILENCE.
469 Words
Chloe stood in front of the furnace, staring. Her chest felt heavy, like someone was sitting on it.
She’d gotten out of bed before her alarm, even though every muscle in her body screamed at her to stay under the covers. But she made it. Somehow.
She didn’t blink. She didn’t move. She just watched. Frank… he was gone. Just gray dust now.
She hugged herself tight, trying not to cry, but the tears were there anyway, burning her eyes.
When it was over, they put the ashes into the urn and handed it to her. Chloe held it to her chest, wishing with everything she had that this wasn’t real. That Frank would suddenly walk in and say it was all a mistake.
The director put a gentle hand on her shoulder and nodded. Chloe gave a tired little smile back.
She walked to her car. That’s when she saw him. Devon. The policeman. Their eyes met, and he didn’t say anything. Just a quiet nod. That small nod meant more to her than words could.
She got in her car and drove home.
Inside, she put the urn on the top shelf and let out a shaky breath. It was over. All she could do now was hope Frank found peace.
Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She made toast and eggs, but it all tasted like gravel sliding down her throat. Still, she ate.
Her phone rang.
“Hello?” Her voice cracked.
“Chloe dear…”
She checked the caller ID. Her mother-in-law. Now? Only now?
“Good evening, ma’am.”
“Oh Chloe, I’m so sorry. I’ve been away on a business trip for weeks. I didn’t get the chance to call anyone. I heard… what happened. How are you? What exactly—”
A storm of questions came at her, one after another. Chloe stayed quiet. Her throat felt tight.
“You know what,” her mother-in-law went on, “I’m back in London now. You should come stay with me for a bit. A change of scenery will do you good.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m not really in the mood—”
“Oh nonsense. You need fresh air. I’ll send my driver tomorrow morning. We’ll talk when you get here.”
Click. The call ended before Chloe could say anything.
She sank onto the couch, exhaling sharply. Why now? Why wasn’t she called sooner? What kind of business trip is more important than her own son?
She pushed the questions away. She was too tired to be angry.
The house felt heavier than usual. Silent in a way that pressed down on her.
Chloe stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow would come, whether she wanted it or not.
And she didn’t have the strength to fight it.
- Writer
