Funerals held no allure, but this one dripped with tragedy. It was a rainy spring day, thunder growling and rain drumming against the windows. All gathered for the passing of your elder brother, who had taken his own life. Yet, your family refused to accept the grim truth behind his demise. They pinned it on you, blaming your alleged reckless influence.

In truth, your brother buckled under the weight of expectations. The family's golden boy, destined for greatness, collapsed under the pressure to excel, his dreams crushed. Only you knew his inner turmoil, his confidante in a sea of expectations.

Clad in a somber black dress and veil, you wept unabashedly. Your brother, your shield and confidant, now gone. "Pray, why do you shed tears? He lies there owing to your influence," your mother's accusation sliced through the air, the murmurs of the crowd amplifying the tension. "Had you refrained from leading him astray with your antics, perchance he would yet endure—," she continued.

But her tirade was halted by the funeral director's interruption. "Do you possess any evidence to substantiate your assertion?" His tone was curt, his voice devoid of warmth. You met his gaze, his demeanor stern, yet his eyes betrayed irritation. A weighted silence enveloped the room, his presence quelling all murmurs. "As I suspected. Holding this young lady accountable for her brother's demise bears no utility. Allow her to grieve undisturbed," he asserted before departing.