"Dad…" Dyon's voice didn't sound out, but he felt like it took all of his strength to even mouth that word.
His father stood in a state Dyon had never seen before. His handsome face was drenched in tears as he gripped the side of the coffin, silently muttering to himself.
But, the view of the coffin itself was something Dyon couldn't bring himself to look at… Because he knew what it held… And it wasn't someone he could stand to see.
And yet, against his wishes, his feet began to move.
No matter how hard he struggled, his steps remained steady, pushing him up the church steps to stand right beside his trembling father.
Dyon's head tilted downward, forcing him to look at the woman who lay in the coffin peacefully.
His mother was a white woman with delicate features. Her hair was a long brunette strung with the petals of flowers, adorning her in death. And yet, even in death, her face still held a rosy color that made it seem as though she could stand at any moment.
