Before You Knew Me

Chapter Two - The Funeral

Elara's POV

The room was quiet.

Not completely silent—there were soft whispers from family members, the occasional sniffle, the faint rustling of black clothing—scrunching of tissues, but to me, everything sounded distant.

I stood behind the podium, staring at the piece of paper in front of me.

My father's eulogy.

My hands trembled against the edges of the paper.

I had written it.

Or at least, I had tried to.

Every sentence had taken hours because every word seemed too small for the man I was trying to describe.

I swallowed hard and looked toward the photograph at the front of the room.

His smiling face stared back at me.

The man who had always been there.

The man who was supposed to come home.

My throat tightened.

I lowered my head.

"You promised you wouldn't leave."

The words barely escaped my lips.

Nobody heard me.

Maybe that was for the best.

Because there was anger beneath my sadness.

Anger at him for leaving.

Anger at the world for taking him.

Anger at myself for not being able to do anything.

And beneath all of it was an emptiness so enormous that I didn't know how I was supposed to fill it.

I looked back down at the paper.

My vision blurred.

I had barely been able to write the speech.

How was I supposed to stand here and say it?

I took a breath. Then another.

I straightened my shoulders.

Dad had always told me that no matter how frightened I was, I should stand tall.

So I did.

I looked at the room.

Then at his photograph.

"Dad..."

My voice cracked.

That single word destroyed whatever strength I had managed to gather.

My lips trembled. I tried again.

"Dad..."

My chest tightened as a sob escaped me.

I lowered my head, desperately trying to breathe through the pain, but the tears came faster.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't say goodbye.

My knees weakened.

Before I could fall, strong arms caught me.

Uncle Thomas.

He had already been moving before I even realized I was losing my balance.

He wrapped both arms around me and pulled me against his chest.

"Come here, sweetheart."

I clung to him.

"I'm sorry," I cried. "I can't."

"You don't have to."

His voice broke.

He was crying too.

Thomas held me tightly as he guided me away from the podium.

I buried my face against him, shaking.

He lowered himself slightly so he could whisper into my ear.

"You don't have to be strong today, Elara."

That only made me cry harder.

He walked me back to my seat and sat beside me, keeping one arm around my shoulders.

For several moments, neither of us spoke.

Then Aunty Margaret slowly walked toward the podium.

My speech was still sitting there.

She picked it up carefully.

Her eyes moved across the page.

She took a breath.

Then she looked toward me.

"I'll read it for you."

I nodded weakly.

Margaret turned toward everyone.

Her voice trembled as she began.

"My father was my first home and my greatest protector."

I closed my eyes.

"When Mom passed away, it was just Dad and me. He became my strength, my teacher and my best friend."

A tear rolled down my cheek.

"He taught me that love was found in the little things—the morning breakfasts, the advice, the laughter, and simply always being there."

I remembered those mornings.

Dad standing in the kitchen wearing his work shirt, making breakfast while I sat at the counter half asleep.

I remembered the smell of coffee.

The sound of his laughter.

The way he would complain when I skipped breakfast.

Margaret continued.

"He taught me how to defend myself because he said I should never have to depend on someone else to keep me safe."

My fingers tightened around the locket at my neck.

Dad had spent countless afternoons teaching me basic self-defence.

He'd always said the same thing.

"Knowing how to protect yourself doesn't mean you're looking for trouble, sweetheart. It means you're prepared if trouble finds you."

Margaret's voice softened.

"He even learned how to braid my hair when Mom became too sick to do it herself."

I smiled through my tears.

I remembered sitting between his knees while he struggled terribly with my hair.

The first braid had looked ridiculous.

I'd laughed so hard.

Dad had been offended for exactly five minutes before laughing with me.

"He took me on daddy-daughter dates, even when I was too old to call them that."

A quiet laugh moved through the room.

Margaret smiled sadly.

"And he never stopped treating me like his little girl."

Her voice broke.

"I wish I had more time."

Margaret paused.

I could hear her trying to steady herself.

"But I am grateful for every moment I was given with him."

She looked directly at me.

"Dad, I promise to carry your love and everything you taught me wherever I go. Just like the locket you gave me, I will carry you and Mom with me always."

My hand closed around the locket.

"If I could choose my father again, I would choose you every time."

Margaret's voice became barely more than a whisper.

"I love you, Dad. Forever."

Silence followed.

Then someone in the back began crying.

Another person sniffed.

Soon the room was filled with quiet grief.

I stared at my father's photograph.

For the first time since the phone call, I allowed myself to smile.

Just a little.

Because that was Dad.

He would have hated seeing everyone crying over him.

He would have probably made some terrible joke. And I would have rolled my eyes. The thought hurt. But somehow, it also helped.

The rest of the service passed in a blur.

Family members spoke. Friends shared stories. People talked about Dad's generosity, his loyalty and his ability to make everyone around him feel like they mattered.

I listened. Or tried to.

Mostly, I stared at the locket around my neck. The funeral eventually ended.

People moved toward the reception area, gathering around tables filled with food and drinks.

There were hugs. Stories.

A few quiet laughs as people remembered better days.

But I remained lost inside my own head.

People came to me one after another.

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Your father was a wonderful man."

"If you need anything..." I nodded.

"Thank you."

Sometimes I shook their hands.

Sometimes I hugged them.

I didn't recognize half of the faces.

Friends of Dad.

Business associates.

People from his past. People I'd probably met once as a child and forgotten.

They all blurred together.

Then another man approached me.

I didn't recognize him.

He was tall.

Very tall.

Broad shoulders beneath a perfectly fitted black suit.

His dark blond hair was neatly styled, slightly messy at the edges in a way that somehow looked intentional. His face was strong and handsome, with sharp features and a faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.

But it was his eyes that stood out.

Dark. Focused. Almost painfully observant.

He approached quietly.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

I looked at him.

For some reason, I felt like I had seen him before. But I couldn't place where.

"Thank you."

He hesitated for half a second.

Then he stepped forward and gave me a brief, respectful hug.

His arms were around me for barely a moment.

He stepped back but she didnt notice him look at the locket around her neck

"Take care of yourself, Elara."

My brows pulled together.

He knew my name. But so did everyone here. So I thought nothing of it.

"Thank you." He nodded once.

Then he disappeared into the crowd.

I didn't watch him leave.

I didn't know his name.

I didn't know why he'd been there.

And I certainly didn't know that the moment he walked away from me, his six-year promise had finally begun.

______________

Daniel POV

I stepped outside into the cold evening air. The rain had stopped.

I stood beneath the overhang of the building, hands slipping into the pockets of my coat.

Behind me, the funeral continued.

But i didn't look back. I couldn't look back, I had seen enough.

I had finally seen the girl Gabriel had talked about for Year "his little girl" I didn't imagine she would be a grown women the way he carried on, I laughed softly.

She wasn't what I had expected.

Not spoiled. Not entitled. Not careless with the life her father had left behind.

She was broken. And somehow, even through her grief, there had been something gentle about her.

I looked toward the dark street, my jaw tightened. Gabriel had saved me.

Now it was my turn to keep that trust.

I promised to protect her, and seeing that locket around her neck, if her Aunt handnt mentioned it in her speech I would have never clicked to what he meant that night he died in my arms.

The words played back in my head "in the locket" he must have hid something inside there that no one knew about.

Even if she never knows I exist,Even if she never knew how many dangers were moving quietly toward her. I Wil keep my word and my promise.

He turned and disappeared into the shadows. He had no idea that one day the woman he'd just watched mourn her father would become the woman he would risk everything to keep alive.

And he had no idea that somewhere along the way... He would want to know her and make sure she was worth protecting.