In the past, Enzo told himself that he wasn't going to feel anything when his father was finally gone.

Cesare wasn't a kind father, after all. Sure, Enzo respected him, but he could count on his fingers the good moments in his life he had with Cesare. There were times where he would wake up in a cold sweat, fearing that someday he would wake up in the body of the younger version of himself.

Of course, that day never arrived. What did come, however, was his father's funeral.

Enzo stood amidst the somber scene, his heart heavy. The cemetery stretched out before him, a sea of gravestones fading into the misty horizon. Tall trees swayed mournfully in the gusts of wind, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers.

Mourners gathered around, their faces solemn masks of grief and respect. Enzo observed them through a haze of numbness, recognizing familiar faces. Even the members of the Santoro family stood among them, their presence a testament to the significance of the occasion.

The procession went well. Everyone said their goodbyes, a few prayers were said, and the crowd eventually moved on.

Yet, Enzo found himself unable to move. He was stood in front of the dark ground that his own father was buried under, right next to Enzo's sweet, beloved mother, Juliette. In his mind, he read the name carved on the marble stone over and over again, as if he were merely hallucinating it. Part of him couldn't even believe that it all happened, as if this were all just one long messy dream.

The rain fell in a relentless downpour, Enzo felt each droplet seep through his coat, chilling him to the bone. The scent of wet earth mingled with the sweet fragrance of flowers laid upon his father's grave, creating a bittersweet atmosphere that hung heavy in the air.

In all honesty, he couldn't even tell if it was his tears that were on his cheeks or if it was the rain drops that had fallen onto his face. All he really wanted to do was scream. Whether it was out of pain, relief, or misery, he couldn't really tell.