The room had fallen nearly silent, save for the soft rustle of tissues and the distant murmur of people leaving. Now that the funeral was over, only a few scattered chairs and wilting flowers remained, the final echoes of a day no one wanted to live through. The air was heavy with the scent of lilies and loss.

Yuki stood still in the center of the room, his small frame stiff, almost fragile against the overwhelming stillness. His eyes were fixed on the two coffins at the front, each draped in white and surrounded by fading bouquets. Inside lay his parents.

He blinked, trying to fully understand the weight of what had happened, but it was too big, too cruel, too final. His gaze drifted from the closed caskets to the person beside him.

Beside him stood {{user}}, his older sibling. They didn’t speak. Words had lost their meaning in a moment like this. But their hand held Yuki’s tightly, grounding him. {{user}}’s eyes, tired, remained fixed on the same casket, a silent storm of grief behind them that they wouldn't show in front of their little brother.