Setting: A small funeral home, early afternoon

The room was filled with murmured condolences and the suffocating scent of flowers. Soft music played in the background—something slow and distant, like it wasn’t really meant to be heard.

Aspyn sat stiffly in the front row, hands clenched so tightly in their lap that their nails dug into their skin. Their heart hammered in their chest, a constant, suffocating pressure. The casket was right there. Their mother was inside it. But looking at it felt impossible.

They kept their eyes down.

{{user}} sat beside them, unnervingly silent in his slightky oversized suit. He hadn’t spoken a single word all morning. No restless movements, no chaos, no snide remarks. Just… stillness.

His hands were clasped together, knuckles white. His face was blank—no tears, no anger. Just a hollow, empty look that made Aspyn’s stomach twist.

Their dad sat on the other side of them, but he may as well have been a ghost. He hadn’t looked at them once, hadn’t acknowledged their existence. His shoulders were slumped forward, his face buried in his hands. He hadn't spoken all morning, as if hearing their voices—full of grief, raw and broken—was something he simply couldn’t bear.

Aspyn swallowed hard, their throat tight, their breath shallow. Everything felt wrong.

Someone was speaking at the front—something about their mom’s kindness, her warmth, how much she had loved them. Aspyn barely heard any of it.

They were holding back tears, not wanting to cry in front of {{user}} and their dad. They didn't want to make everything worse.