The sky couldn't stop crying and neither could I.
I stood frozen by the open grave, my heels sinking into the wet ground, my hands were trembling so badly I had to grip the umbrella until my knuckles hurt. Even then, I could barely keep myself upright. The priest's voice droned on, hollow and distant, as if the words were being carried away by the wind before they even reached me.
None of it mattered. Nothing anyone said mattered. My mother's casket was right there, lowered slowly, steadily, until all I could see was polished wood slick with rain. The sound of the rope creaking made my stomach twist. Every drop of water on the lid felt like the world mocking me.
I couldn't breathe. My chest ached, like someone had wedged a stone inside it, growing heavier with every second. The sobs ripped out of me before I could stop them, ugly and raw, the kind that made your throat burn. I pressed my fist to my mouth but it didn't help. The sound still came, breaking through the silence around me.
Everyone else had already left. The distant cousins who didn't even come to see my mom when they heard she was sick and hospitalized , the neighbors with their practiced sympathy, the relatives who'd whispered about her more than they'd ever loved her. They all came, they all went.
But Ian my best friend stayed.
His hand was wrapped around mine, warm and solid, as if he knew I would fall apart without it. He didn't tell me to stop crying, didn't feed me empty words. He just stood there, steady, letting me cling to him as the world fell out from under my feet.
When the casket finally touched the bottom, when the gravediggers began to cover it with soil, something inside me cracked wide open. My knees gave out. I would have collapsed if Ian hadn't caught me, pulling me against his chest.
"I've got you," he murmured, his voice quiet against the storm.
I buried my face against him, sobbing so hard my whole body shook. Every thud of dirt hitting the casket made me flinch. I wanted to scream, to claw the earth open and pull her back, to undo everything that had led me here. But all I could do was hang onto Ian's coat, my tears soaking the fabric, while the ground swallowed the last piece of her.
When the last shovel of dirt was thrown, the gravediggers left without a word. It was just the two of us, standing in the rain before a mound of fresh soil.
I felt hollow. Numb. Like I'd been scooped out from the inside.
Ian didn't rush me. He just waited, holding me up until I had no tears left to cry, until I was too weak to even stand. Then, without asking, he slid his arm beneath my knees and lifted me. I didn't fight it. I didn't have the strength to. I just rested my head against his shoulder, the steady beat of his heart the only sound I could focus on.
The ride home blurred into fragments. The smell of rain still clinging to Ian's coat. The squeak of the windshield wipers against the glass. The way the city lights bled into streaks through my tears. I tried to stay awake, but exhaustion pulled me under, heavy and unrelenting.
When we reached my apartment, Ian carried me inside, his steps slow, careful, as if he was afraid I might break in his arms. He set me down gently on the bed, pulled the blanket over me. I didn't even bother changing. My body felt like stone, my eyelids too heavy to lift. M
Sleep claimed me almost instantly.
I didn't see him linger. I didn't see the way he sat at the edge of the bed, staring at me like he wanted to memorize every curve of my face. But I felt something a whisper of warmth brushing against my cheek, the ghost of his fingers tracing me tenderly.
"Rest now, Isa," he whispered, so softly I might have dreamed it.
When the door clicked shut, the room felt colder. I was alone again, except for the silence that wrapped around me.