As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Clara’s long-held resolve finally shattered. The weight of reality pressed down on her chest, and she could no longer hold back the tears that had threatened to spill for so long. She wept silently, her hands clenching the folds of her black gown, her body trembling with grief.
She had chosen to bury Grandma in the compound, right by the side of the house, where the eggplants grew. It had been Grandma’s favorite spot. Every morning, she would rise early to water the plants, humming softly as she nurtured them with care. The thought of Grandma’s presence forever lingering in the place she loved most had comforted Clara when she made the decision, but now, as she stood watching the men dig, that comfort felt like an illusion.
Mitchell, standing a
