Adele's POV
For as long as I could remember, family had meant only two people to me: my mother and my younger brother.
My father—lost somewhere between gambling dens and whiskey bottles, absent even when his shadow crossed our doorstep—might as well never have existed at all.
"She's gone."
The words dropped from the doctor's mouth with clinical restraint, but to me they landed like a thunderclap.
He stood there in his immaculate white coat, composed and distant, while my world split apart. I stood beside the bed, my fingers clenched tightly around my brother's smaller hand, blinking as though I had been pushed into a waking dream.
My mother lay quietly beneath the thin sheets. Her chest no longer rose and fell. The pain that had plagued her for so many years had finally loosened its grip.
Her face looked peaceful—soft, even—like she had simply drifted into a deep, gentle sleep. All her suffering had been left behind. She had found rest at last, a rest without end.
"There is a state-supported program that can help with funeral arrangements," the doctor said softly. "If you visit the district office, they'll guide you through the process."
He spoke with careful compassion, fully aware of how fragile our situation was. I managed to nod, though it felt as if my head were filled with cotton, my thoughts dull and scattered, as if I'd been struck by something heavy and unseen.
The doctor lingered a moment longer, watching me with troubled eyes. Then he sighed quietly, gathered his medical bag, and gave a small bow before turning to leave. The door clicked shut behind him.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then it broke.
A small, broken sound—half sob, half gasp—came from beside me. It was my brother Damien.
I flinched.
My brother's shoulders were shaking violently. He was trying so hard to be quiet, to be brave, but tears streamed freely down his face.
"Mom… how––how can it be..?"
"…"
The sight of him like that shattered what little composure I had left. In that instant, the truth I had been avoiding finally reached me.
The fog clouding my mind lifted, cruelly and completely. I looked back at the bed.
My mother lay there, unmoving—sleeping a sleep so deep she would never wake from it.
"... Mother."
I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing back the cry clawing its way up my throat. The rigid shell of shock I had been hiding behind finally cracked. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks, burning as they traced paths over skin that felt strangely numb.
As I cried in silence, small arms suddenly wrapped around my waist. My brother clung to me as though I were the only thing anchoring him to the world.
"Adele… what do we do..?"
My hands trembled as I hugged him back, holding him as tightly as I could. It had been years since he'd cried like this. He was usually so strong, so composed—far more mature than a child his age should have been. Seeing him break so completely tore my heart open.
He was still so young. Too young to lose our mother.
As his sister, there was nothing I could do but hold him and offer comfort I barely believed myself.
"It's okay," I whispered shakily. "It's okay… You have me. I'm still here."
"But, Adele… Mother, she is––"
We clung to each other, our sobs filling the small room. The grief, the fear, and the crushing realization that we were now completely alone pressed down on us relentlessly.
The bitter truth was impossible to deny. The woman who had been our entire world—our mother, our shelter, our strength—was gone. She would never smile at us again. She would never guide us through the hardships that lay ahead.
Had her final words of love, spoken with her last breath, truly reached us?
I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the darkness. Until the weight of our loss eased—even a little—my tears refused to stop.
***
My mother's funeral was held at a small church near our home.
Even during the preparations, arranged with reluctant assistance from the district office, my father never appeared. I found that I no longer felt disappointed—only a dull, bitter acceptance lingered somewhere in my heart.
A faint, humorless smile tugged at my lips before I forced it away.
Would he even grieve for her? For all his failures, he had once loved her deeply. Perhaps, had he come, he would have collapsed the moment he saw her coffin.
"Adele, you haven't eaten anything since yesterday, have you? You should eat something…"
My brother's quiet voice pulled me from my thoughts. He stood beside me now, worry etched across his face as he studied my pale reflection. I had been sitting motionless on the hard wooden pew for hours.
Despite my exhaustion and grief, a small, tender smile surfaced. I reached out and patted his hand as he sat beside me.
"I'm fine," I said softly. "You should take care of yourself, too."
Just then, the heavy door to the funeral hall creaked open. Three—no, four—figures entered one by one, their hushed murmurs echoing faintly through the space.
I narrowed my eyes. The light from outside blurred my vision for a moment, but recognition came quickly as the familiar voice yelled out my name.
"Adele!"
It was my aunt, her husband, and their two sons.