He was close enough that if I leaned, just a little, just for a second, I knew that he would catch me. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, because if I let him hold me, if I let myself collapse into him, the grief would break open like a dam, rushing out in a way I knew I wouldn’t be able to control, and if I fell apart now, in front of everyone, in front of him…I wasn’t sure I’d ever put myself back together again.
A low, broken sound tore from my throat before I could stop it. It wasn’t a sob, not fully, but it was enough to make Sebastian tense beside me. I felt it, the way his body stiffened, the way his breathing hitched just slightly, like he knew I was unraveling.
I felt the moment he almost reached for me, and the way his fingers curled at his side, like he was stopping himself from pulling me in. Like he knew, even without me saying it, that I wouldn’t let him. But he wanted to, and for one agonizing second, I considered it.
I considered turning toward him, letting my forehead press against his chest, letting his arms wrap around me so I wouldn’t have to hold myself upright anymore.
But the moment passed, and instead of leaning into him, I stepped forward. Just enough to make it clear I didn’t want to be touched, and just enough to make the space between us a choice.
The cold air rushed into the gap between our bodies, a physical reminder of the warmth I had just refused. Sebastian’s hand dropped away, his fingers curling into a loose fist at his side. I still didn’t look at him, but I felt the moment his breathleft him in a slow, controlled exhale. I knew that exhale; I’ve heard it before, in moments where he was trying to stay steady, trying not to push me.
He was trying to hold himself back when all he wanted to do was be there for me, but I wasn’t ready for that, I wasn’t ready for him. So I stood there, staring at the open grave, letting the distance between us settle like another weight in my chest.
The casket settled at the bottom of the grave. The priest’s voice droned on, meaningless words about eternal peace, about how she was in a better place. I hated him for saying it.
I hated that the sky was gray, but it wasn’t raining. I hated that people were crying, that they had the luxury of grieving openly, while I felt like I was choking on my own breath. I hated that I was still here, standing above ground, while my mother was beneath it.
Someone handed me a handful of dirt. My fingers curled around it, the soil damp and cool against my skin. I stared at it, my vision blurring.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
No.
No.
I forced myself to move forward, to open my palm.
The dirt slipped through my fingers, falling in slow, uneven clumps onto the casket below. The thud was too loud in my ears. Too final. I took a step back.
And another.
And another…Until Sebastian’s hand caught my arm.
It was light, just a gentle brush of warmth against my sleeve. Not pulling. Not forcing. Just reminding me he was there.
I didn’t look at him. I just swallowed back the scream that threatened to rise in my throat, pulled away, and turned my back to the grave. Because if I looked at it for one more second, I would break, and I wasn’t ready to break.
Not yet.
CHAPTER 33
Mariana
The Rolling Pin felt wrong. It was too bright, too warm, too alive. The overhead lights glowed softly against the terracotta tiles, reflecting off the hand-painted designs that framed the front counter. It was beautiful, it was full, and I wanted everyone to leave.
People filled the bakery, their voices hushed but constant, layering over each other in a low, steady hum, a noise I could feel more than hear, vibrating beneath my skin like static.
They whispered condolences over cups of coffee and picked at small plates of food they weren’t hungry for. They stole glances at me, their expressions shifting between pity and something softer, something unbearable.
"Your mother was an incredible woman."
"She was so proud of you, Mariana."
"She’s watching over you now."
I wanted to scream. I so badly wanted to tell them to stop talking, stop pretending, stop trying to fill the silence with empty words that didn’t bring her back.
Because she wasn’t watching over me. She was fucking gone.
