Crescentia arrived at the section where the coffins were placed, open for anyone who wished to pay their final respects.
Flowers lay carefully arranged beside them—tokens of love and grief from those who had already come and gone.
With trembling hands, Crescentia placed her own bouquet among them before stepping closer.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Her father was dressed in a sharp black suit, his expression peaceful, as if merely asleep. Her mother's dark hair had been curled into soft waves, her neck and hands adorned with delicate jewelry. The silky white dress she wore made her look like a sleeping beauty.
A fragile illusion of life.
Crescentia had thought she'd come to terms with their deaths. She had convinced herself she could face this moment with strength. But standing here now, looking at them… the walls she had so carefully built around her grief shattered.
Silent tears slid down her cheeks.
