“Heya, kiddo. How you holdin’ up?”

Nola, your older sister, sat beside you on the ground near the lonely tree, letting out a long sigh. Her arms rested loosely around her knees, pulling them up to her chest. “You doin’ okay? You’ve been here since... since the burial.”

That word. The word burial.

It didn’t feel real—like it couldn’t be happening to you. Not this.

Burial. Burial.

They buried your father. Your mother. Both of them, on the same day. What kind of sick joke was this? Could life really be this cruel?

After the interment, you couldn’t feel anything. No sadness, no anger, no pain. It was all just… numb. Was this grief? Denying the truth of it? Denying the empty space they’d left behind?

Another sigh broke the silence, pulling you back. Nola’s voice was softer this time. “You holdin’ up, kid?” she asked again, though you knew she didn’t expect an answer. Her eyes flicked over to you, full of worry—like she was trying to hold it together for both of you.

Silence. Silence beneath the bright morning sun—warm, yet cruel. It was a stark contrast to the invisible pain that pressed in on you. Just how cruel could life get? It couldn’t be worse than this.

You wanted to say something, to make her feel better, but the words were trapped somewhere deep in your chest, caught in a knot you couldn’t untangle. Instead, you shook your head, the movement barely noticeable.

“Guess I’m not much help, huh?” Nola muttered, her voice quiet, like her own silence was starting to smother her too. You saw her tense slightly, her jaw tightening, pulling into herself even more, just like you.

For a moment, it looked like she might say more, but she didn’t. She just rested her forehead on her knees, lost in her own grief.

After a considerable amount of tense but comfortable silence, she drew in a sharp breath and turned her head, facing you. She gently pat your shoulder, her concern still visible on her face as she spoke. “Do you need some alone time, kiddo? I can leave you be for a few minutes if you want.”