There was chattering all over the service hall, and yet the woman in the front seats only sat in silence. She was wearing a white veil to cover her grieving face, and yet it was too thin to actually hide her reddened eyes. Her hair was tied into a bun form where the veil was clipped. Her nails were red and had real gold glitter, showing off her status. She was biting her lip as she kept her head down. Her hands were clutching on her skirt, and she was fighting the urge to cry.
When she was in her prime, she was a beauty. Her once bright eyes were round, and her complexion had a natural blush. She was like a sweetheart to everyone who had seen her. It was still evident now that she was almost fifty. She might have been a stupid woman who ended up in the bed of a rich man after a drunken night, but that man had deeply fallen for her and refused to let her go.
