CHAPTER 6: IF SILENCE COULD HURT .
534 Words
Three days passed, but honestly, they all felt like one long, blurry day.
Chloe couldn’t even tell morning from evening anymore. Everything looked the same—quiet, colorless, and heavy. She moved around the house like she was scared it might fall apart… or maybe she was scared she might.
Today was the day she had to finalize everything.
Just thinking about it made her stomach twist.
She stood in front of the funeral home, hugging her sleeves like the air was freezing. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just her. When she walked in, a tiny bell chimed above the door.
The woman at the desk gave her that soft, sad smile people save for moments like this.
“Mrs. Harris? We’ve been expecting you.”
Chloe just nodded. Her voice didn’t feel like something she could use right now.
She followed the woman into a small office with neatly arranged papers. The funeral director, an old man with the gentlest eyes she’d ever seen, stood up to greet her. She shook his hand, though her fingers were shaking.
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” he said quietly.
If she had a dollar for every time she heard that sentence…
But she just sat down.
He pushed some papers toward her.
“These are the final forms before the cremation. We can proceed this afternoon.”
Her chest tightened. Not enough to cry—she didn’t even think she could cry anymore. But enough to make her feel like the room suddenly got smaller.
“You mentioned wanting the ashes buried privately? No guests?”
She nodded.
“Yes. Just me.”
Her voice sounded soft and far away, like someone else said it for her.
She signed the forms one by one. Each signature felt like she was letting go of another piece of Frank. When she finished, she pushed the pen away and finally breathed out. It felt like she hadn’t breathed properly in days.
The director stood.
“We’ll contact you when everything is ready. You can go home and rest.”
Rest. Right.
She walked outside into the sunlight, blinking like she hadn’t seen the sun in years. The world felt… wrong. Too bright. Too normal. Like nothing had happened.
The drive home felt longer than ever. Every street reminded her of him. Every song on the radio sounded like something he would hum.
When she walked into the house, the silence hit her instantly. Heavy and familiar, like it was waiting for her.
She dropped her bag and walked into the living room. His jacket was still hanging on the chair. She reached for it, touched it for half a second, and then pulled her hand back fast—like it hurt.
Her legs gave up, and she collapsed onto the couch, curling into herself. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t even shaking. She just felt… empty. Like her body was there, but she wasn’t.
Outside the window, the world kept moving—cars, people, voices.
Inside, everything stayed painfully still.
She closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the cushions. No tears. No breakdown.
Just silence.
And the slow countdown to a goodbye she wasn’t ready for.p
- Writer
