Chapter 2: The Funeral
The funeral was small and quiet.
Thomas had asked for no flowers, no long speeches, just a simple service at the old church where we had first met as teenagers. I stood at the front in a black dress, holding the single rose he had given me the day before he passed.
His family was there — a brother I barely remembered, a few cousins, and his lawyer. No one cried except me. The rest looked at me with polite curiosity, as if wondering why an old woman they barely knew had married their dying relative.
The pastor spoke of love that had waited fifty years. I closed my eyes and remembered Thomas’s weak voice saying “I do” while machines beeped around us. The nurse had cried. The lawyer had smiled strangely.
After the service, I stood by the grave as the coffin was lowered.
I whispered, “Rest now, Thomas. I kept my promise.”
The lawyer approached me as the others left.
“Mrs. Reed,” he said, “I need to see you tomorrow morning. Thomas left specific instructions.”
I nodded, still numb.
That night, I slept in the small house I had rented, wearing the simple gold ring Thomas had placed on my finger. I cried until there were no tears left.
The funeral was over.
May you like
My brief marriage was over.
But something told me the story was not.
