The sky wept as if mourning with them. A soft drizzle painted the morning gray. It was Nana's funeral.
The children from the orphanage were all dressed in white, their small hands clutched together in sorrow. Their eyes were red, their hearts too young to carry such grief. But today, they stood strong—for Nana.
Nora, however, wore black.
A simple black jumpsuit.
The same one Nana had once bought her, saying, "You'll look powerful in this, my girl."
Asher sat on the floor beside her, his tiny head resting against her right hip. He hadn't spoken much. He didn't need to. His silence echoed louder than most cries.
The church was quiet—too quiet.
Nora slowly stood, her legs trembling as she approached the open coffin. Her fingers grazed the edge, and she fell to her knees beside it.
"I love you so much, Nana…" her voice cracked with pain. "Please… don't go. I beg you…"
Tears fell like rain down her cheeks, and the room filled with the sounds of soft sobbing. The children cried behind her, each one holding onto a piece of the only mother they had ever known.
"You're the only one I have," Nora whispered, gripping Nana's lifeless hand. "Please… move… open your eyes, even just a little—please."
Asher stepped forward, his small hand resting on her back. "Nora…" he said gently, "Nana can't do anything now… Nana is gone."
Still, Nora held on. She wouldn't let go.
The men arrived to close the coffin. She didn't move.
Asher squeezed her hand tightly and whispered, "She's still with us… but we have to let her go now."
Reluctantly, with every part of her breaking, she stepped back as they lifted the coffin and carried it outside. As they placed it into the car, Nora looked up—and suddenly, she saw it.
Nana was smiling.
Standing in the light, arms stretched out, waiting for her. Her warm, familiar smile radiated peace.
Nora gasped, barefoot and shaking. She took a step forward.
"Nora?" a sister called from behind. "Nora?"
But Nora didn't hear her. She was staring at the vision before her, eyes wide with grief and longing. Tears fell freely now—but so did her smile.
Asher looked toward the doors and saw her standing there like a ghost. "She's losing it now," he whispered, worried.
Shaw and Zayan rushed toward her. But before they could reach her, Nora moved like the wind.
She ran.
Faster than ever before.
"NANA!" she screamed.
"I'm coming! Wait for me!"
Zayan chased after her, but she was faster—driven by grief, madness, love.
He caught her finally, arms wrapping around her tightly just before she reached the moving car. She struggled in his grip, screaming with all the pain inside her.
Nana's smile remained as the car pulled away.
Nora screamed again—so loud it echoed across the city like a soul shattering.
Evening fell.
The house was quiet.
Nora, now numb, was on her knees scrubbing the hallway floors. Her face blank, her hands raw. Cleaning, over and over, as if trying to scrub away the pain.
Zayan entered, watching her in silence. His heart ached. "Nora," he said softly. "Leave this. Rest for a while, please."
She didn't look at him. Her voice was low, lifeless.
"Call Nathaira's parents."
Zayan frowned. "Why?"
"Just call them. Please."
Hesitantly, he obeyed. He thought perhaps she wanted to talk about moving on, about the future—about peace.
But when they arrived the next day, Nora stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with cold, hollow eyes.
"This will be the last day," she said simply, "that you'll ever see your daughter again."
And with that, she turned and walked away.