Mourners gathered quietly at the funeral of Jeanne and Dimitri, dressed in black, their faces solemn as two caskets were lowered side by side. The sky was covered with rain-filled clouds as if the weather itself was mourning.
Denis stood close to the graves, his eyes red and swollen from crying. Although Jeanne wasn't his biological mother, it was always she who had loved him unconditionally as if he were her own. Now, at the time of saying last goodbye, he felt like a stab to his heart.
"Sorry, Mom," he whispered. "I couldn't be there with you. I couldn't protect you." He still believed he could have saved Jeanne if he had taken the butler's call seriously and gone to find her. His grief was raw, spilling from him in broken sobs.
