The sky was gray that morning, the kind of gray that carried weight. A soft drizzle had started, gentle enough not to soak the crowd but cold enough to bite through their clothes.
Rows of black umbrellas dotted the cemetery, all gathered around a single white casket that sat above the open grave. The golden letters carved into its side glimmered faintly beneath the dull light:
Elena Grayson. Beloved Daughter and Fiancée.
Sofia stood far away from the others, hidden beneath a tree. The wind carried the scent of fresh soil and flowers, along with the soft hum of mourning voices.
The priest, clad in his white and gold robe, stood solemnly beside the coffin. His voice echoed through the air, calm but filled with sorrow.
"Dust to dust… ashes to ashes. May her soul find eternal peace in the arms of the Almighty."
