The sky was gray, as if the heavens mourned with them. The wind was still, the air heavy with grief and silence. At the heart of the cemetery, a small white casket rested gently above an open grave—Nana's final bed.
The children were all there, dressed in pure white, their tiny faces solemn and pale. Each of them held a single white flower. Asher, unusually quiet, wore a simple white shirt and black trousers. But instead of standing, he sat on the ground beside Nora, his head resting softly against her right leg.
Nora stood out in the sea of white. She wore black. A black jumpsuit—simple, elegant, and full of meaning. Nana had bought it for her years ago, saying one day she'd wear it when she ruled the world with kindness. Nora never imagined it would be for this.
The ceremony was nearly over when Nora suddenly stepped forward. Her eyes were closed, her expression unreadable. Then, as the wind stirred the leaves around them, she began to sing.
Her voice—gentle, haunting, angelic—pierced the silence like a soft cry to the heavens.
Nora:
"Staaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"
The children joined, humming low and slow like an echo in the wind.
Children:
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…"
Nora:
"Let the gates upstairs… ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
Open for the soul who saved us…"
Children:
"Hmmmmmmmmm… ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Lord…
Open the gates for a soullllllllllllllll…"
Nora:
"Painnnnnnnnnnahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"
Her voice soared—high, aching, and unshaken.
Zayan felt his heart twist in his chest. Even the toughest guards looked away to hide their tears.
As Nora sang, Nana's body was slowly lowered into the ground. The children placed their flowers on the coffin. The sun dipped behind the clouds, casting a shadow that felt colder than death itself.
By evening, the crowd had gone. The grave was sealed. Life was supposed to move on.
Back at the mansion, Nora was scrubbing the marble floors. Not a tear, not a word. Her face was blank, her movements mechanical. Zayan found her in the grand hallway, still cleaning even as night fell.
He walked to her slowly. "Nora… leave the cleaning. Just for tonight."
She didn't stop. "Please… call Nathaira's parents."
He blinked. "Why?"
"Just call them. Tell them to come to the mansion tomorrow."
He studied her expression—still, unreadable. "Alright… but… are you going to tell them about us? The future?"
Nora stood and turned away. "No."
He frowned. "Then… what is it?"
She walked to the window and looked out into the night, her arms crossed tightly.
"That'll be the last day they see their daughter," she said coldly. Then she walked away.
And Zayan stood there, the weight of her words sinking like stone into his soul.