The day was heavy with sorrow and quiet reverence. The funeral of Heka's parents was underway, a somber gathering marked by muted whispers and the soft rustling of black attire. Among the mourners, Ansel arrived alone, his presence understated yet unmistakably deliberate.
Clad in a simple black shirt, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, he moved with a purpose that went beyond mere attendance.
To the casual observer, Ansel was just another guest paying his respects. But to him, this day was layered with meaning.
It was not simply about witnessing the final blessing for Heka's parents; it was about confronting something buried deep within himself. Something unresolved.
As the ceremony began, Ansel chose to position himself in the back row, a strategic retreat that allowed him to observe without being observed.
He hoped fervently that Heka would not notice his presence. The last thing he wanted was to stir emotions or draw attention.
He kept his head bowed slightly, his posture closed off, signaling his desire to remain unnoticed. Yet, despite his efforts, the murmurs and hushed conversations around him seeped into his awareness.
The back row offered more than just concealment; it was a refuge from the inevitable small talk and condolences that filled the air. Ansel was determined to avoid any interaction.
His hearing, sharpened over time by necessity, caught every nuance. He listened intently for any hint of resentment or ill would be directed at Heka or his family. It pained him to think that someone might harbor grudges against a man who had already lost so much.
But the voices around him revealed nothing but respect and sorrow. No whispers of blame, no veiled accusations, only genuine grief.
He was also searching for someone else, a mysterious woman he had glimpsed the day before at a wedding. She had left an impression on him, unsettling and enigmatic.
He was certain she was a scourge, a shadow with a hidden agenda. The phone number Andrew had given him was useless now, disconnected and silent. This funeral was his last hope to encounter her again.
As the final blessing ceremony drew to a close, Ansel's eyes scanned the crowd discreetly, searching for any sign of the woman. But the mourners were absorbed in their grief, and no unfamiliar face emerged from the sea of black-clad figures.
Despite the absence of suspicion or hostility in the ceremony, Ansel's heart remained heavy. He knew that beneath the surface of this solemn day lay secrets yet to be uncovered.
And though he had come to pay his respects, he was also here to confront the shadows that haunted both Heka's family and his own past.
"Does this mean that they are completely clean without any grudges? Then, why did all that happen to Heka?"
Nothing else crossed Ansel's mind. The turmoil of thoughts, the restless waiting, the gnawing uncertainty. All of it seemed to fade into a dull background noise. Perhaps it was time to stop overthinking, to cease waiting for some elusive and for the right time to act.
The final blessing ceremony had concluded. One by one, the mourners began to leave the cemetery, their footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone paths.
The gradual thinning of the crowd sharpened Ansel's focus. His gaze settled clearly on Heka, who stood motionless in front of the gravestone, a solitary figure etched against the gray sky.
But Heka was not entirely alone. A woman stood beside him, her presence gentle yet purposeful.
She reached out occasionally, placing a comforting hand on Heka's arm or shoulder. As she was trying to soothe the storm of grief that threatened to overwhelm him. Her face was calm, but her eyes betrayed a quiet concern.
Ansel's instincts prickled with unease. There was something off about Heka's appearance. He was dressed in heavy winter clothes, a thick coat wrapped tightly around him. Although it was not winter, not yet.
It was a detail that was unsettled.
Suddenly, Heka turned his head and looked directly toward Ansel. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, recognition flickered across Heka's face.
Without hesitation, Heka whispered something to the woman beside him, a quiet instruction to leave. She nodded and slipped away silently, disappearing into the thinning air.
Ansel took a step forward, closing the distance between them. The cemetery was nearly empty now, save for the two of them standing amid the fading echoes of the ceremony.
Yet, the woman Ansel had been waiting for, the mysterious figure who had haunted his thoughts since the wedding. She did not appear.
There was no sign of her presence, no shadow lurking at the edges of the graveyard. Ansel strained his senses, but the eerie silence confirmed his suspicion: she was not coming.
"Where is she? Why doesn't she show up too? Did I miss her? No, she hasn't come yet? Will she come today? Or maybe she will come tomorrow or the day after?"
Heka didn't wear sunglasses today. His swollen eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, were starkly visible raw and unguarded.
No matter how strong a person's spirit, the loss of something precious carved deep wounds that no amount of willpower could fully conceal. His vulnerability was laid bare for anyone who cared to see.
"I thought you don't come," Heka said softly, his voice tinged with a fragile hope.
Ansel gave a faint, knowing smile. The kind that suggested he was both amused and resigned to the situation.
"How can I not come? I'm in the back row. You just don't see me." His voice was low, almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret that only the two of them understood amidst the sea of mourners.
He could tell that Heka had been quietly expecting him, even if the funeral wasn't truly the reason for his presence.
There was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent acknowledgment that this gathering was more about appearances and obligations than genuine grief.
It was better this way for short conversations or forced reassurances. Ansel's gaze immediately shifted to the thick layers of clothing Heka wore.
"If you don't feel well, it's better to go home. Don't procrastinate yourself." He said gently, his concern barely veiled beneath his calm exterior.