Arthur's funeral had been arranged, meticulously. He had been a remarkable man—a diligent worker, a devoted patriot, and an honorable individual. The proceedings were conducted with a quiet dignity, yet the atmosphere was thick with an unsettling lightheartedness. They whispered and murmured among themselves, reflecting on the epidemic that had claimed yet another precious life. Conversations were sparse, and soon everyone drifted back into mundane chatter. The only outward sign of mourning was their somber black attire, which felt almost out of place against the backdrop of their casual demeanor.
Their distracted manner was not offensive, however. They had grown accustomed to the specter of death, and Arthur, though known to many as a friendly figure, had no direct relatives who would grieve him deeply. Thus, his passing did not disrupt their reality; his death, despite occurring right before them, felt distant and somewhat detached.
In the rear of the gathering, one individual stood apart. Her veil concealed her face, and she sat in silence, an unmoving presence amidst the crowd. This woman did not cry, laugh, or shift her position throughout the ceremony. She remained statuesque, her stillness a stark contrast to the muted activity around her. She refrained from moving closer to offer her goodbyes, nor the usual crammed phrases of condolences. She did nothing.
Among those present were Elizabeth and Alexander, who had come to pay their respects before departing swiftly. As most attendees trickled out, John remained a little longer. His attention drew to the woman in the back, still motionless. Almost all of the people had left and now only four or five people remained. But the woman was still there in the same seat with same posture. Sensing her connection to Arthur much deeper than he had initially assumed, he felt compelled to approach and express his condolences. However, just as he was about to close the distance, she rose abruptly with a sharp and aggressive movement. With a forceful gesture, she removed a bracelet from her wrist and hurled it away, the sound resonating sharply in the otherwise silent hall as it hit the marble floor.
John was momentarily taken aback. "Who is she?" he wondered, but soon recognized that it was the young doctor hidden beneath the veil. John began to walk towards her but as he was about to call out to her, she turned towards him and met his gaze with those dagger-like eyes of hers. It was a look filled with rage and despair. He knew what she meant with that look. She had warned him not to approach her. He stopped in his tracks as he took the hint. Without a word or acknowledgment of his presence, she turned again and exited, leaving a palpable tension in her wake.
A sense of foreboding gripped John. He sensed she might act impulsively. Her purposeful walk suggested just that. So, without a second thought he chose to follow after her.