Prologue
"Rest peacefully in God's embrace."
The pastor’s voice was the only thing that brought calm amidst the silence.
My hand clutched a tear-stained handkerchief as I stared at the mound of soil, slowly but steadily burying the coffin.
Mother, you're no longer in pain.
Go to Father—let your longing find its peace.
I took a deep breath and exhaled, my eyes flicking toward the framed photo of her in Julia’s arms—my one and only sister.
Julia and I looked almost identical today.
The same broken expressions, the same makeup worn only out of formality, the same all-black clothing reflecting nothing but grief.
The only difference: Julia let herself weep, while I... endured.
With wisdom carved by time, the pastor closed the funeral with a final prayer.
Julia cried into my arms—again—and I could only pat her back, offering what little comfort I could.
Just like the others.
Friends, neighbors, familiar faces—they came one by one to whisper condolences before returning to their lives.
And once the last mourner had left, a quiet realization settled in.
Funerals aren't the end of grief.
They’re just the beginning of living without.
“Let’s go home, Julia.”
I gently pulled away from our embrace, wiping the tears from her cheek with my thumb.
“Her passing... it’s not the end. It’s the beginning—of learning how to be fully responsible.”
“Yeah, but…”
Julia trailed off, eyes locked on the fresh mound of soil covered in flowers.
“I still regret it. I shouldn’t have left when Mom told me not to.”
I gave her a faint smile and rubbed her shoulder.
“Then let that regret teach you something. You or I—when we grow old—we have to stay together. Understand?”
Julia nodded, and instinctively, my brows knit together.
The wall I’d built inside my chest, thick and cold as concrete, no longer held back the tide.
I needed to leave. Anywhere.
Anywhere I could be alone with this grief.
I gripped Julia’s hand and carefully guided her to the car.
We walked side by side.
Julia kept dabbing her face, but the handkerchief could no longer hold all her sorrow.
And then—just a few steps from the car—my pace slowed for no reason I could name.
Something in the air shifted.
A weight, a warning, a shadow that curled down my spine.
And that’s when I saw him.
Under one of the old trees near the cemetery, a man stood—half his face hidden behind a black umbrella.
His suit, also black, was too pristine for a funeral.
From where I stood, I could make out the sharp line of his jaw, the tight line of his lips.
Even without seeing his eyes, I felt his gaze—too sharp, too heavy to belong to just another mourner.
I froze.
I didn’t know him.
At least, I was sure I’d never seen him before.
“What’s wrong?” Julia whispered, her voice still raw from crying.
I shook my head slowly, but my eyes didn’t leave the man.
As if sensing my attention, he lifted the umbrella just enough—just enough for me to see the full shape of his face, and that gaze...
That gaze felt familiar.
And then—like a shadow slipping through the wind—he turned and walked away.
Not a word. Not a sound.
I almost stepped forward to follow him.
But Julia’s fingers gripped my arm, keeping me rooted.
“Can we go home?” she asked gently, anchoring me back to reality.
I inhaled deeply, sparing one last glance toward where the man had been.
Nothing.
He was gone—lost behind a row of graves, leaving only a question that tightened in my chest.
“Yes,” I murmured, squeezing Julia’s hand tighter.
But even after we got into the car,
his shadow stayed with me.
Who was he?
And why did his eyes look like they knew me?
