Cynthia didn't even give us time to overthink things.
The moment we stopped in front of the gate and saw how crowded the house was, she already stepped forward ahead of everyone like she had rehearsed this kind of situation her entire life.
Meanwhile, the rest of us were still standing there trying to figure out how exactly we were supposed to explain why four college students randomly showed up at a stranger's house asking about a dead person.
I adjusted the strap of my bag awkwardly while Gino scratched the back of his neck.
Sarah looked like she was mentally preparing herself for whatever nonsense Cynthia was about to pull.
And Cynthia?
She simply smiled.
That dangerously sweet smile again.
"Better do it now than stand here looking suspicious," she whispered without looking back at us before knocking lightly on the metal gate.
A few seconds later, an older woman came out from inside the house. She looked exhausted, though not physically. More like the kind of exhaustion that settles into someone after grieving for too long.
She looked at the four of us curiously.
"Yes?"
Cynthia's expression softened instantly.
Not fake.
Not exaggerated.
Just gentle enough to make anyone lower their guard.
"Good afternoon po," she greeted politely. "Are we… right on time?"
I almost looked at her.
Right on time for what?
But Cynthia kept that calm expression on her face like she absolutely knew what she was talking about.
The older woman blinked, clearly confused for a second, before her eyes slowly moved over us one by one.
Gino standing awkwardly beside me.
Sarah trying to smile naturally.
Me pretending I knew what was happening.
Then the woman noticed how young we looked.
"You're students?" she asked carefully. "From Santa Carla University?"
The moment she mentioned the university, I saw Cynthia's eyes flicker slightly.
Jackpot.
"Yes po," Cynthia answered immediately, her voice turning quieter this time. Softer. "We… came here for Paulo."
The atmosphere shifted almost instantly.
The older woman's expression crumbled into something painful.
Not dramatic.
Just tired grief.
The kind that never really leaves.
"Oh…" she whispered softly. "You're here for Paulo's death anniversary?"
The words hit all of us at the same time.
One year.
It had already been a year.
Beside me, I felt Paulo go completely still.
No one spoke for a moment.
Even Millien stayed quiet.
The sounds from inside the house suddenly felt louder after that realization. Conversations. Plates clinking together. People talking softly. Someone laughing faintly before lowering their voice again.
They weren't gathered there for celebration.
They were gathered because it had already been one year since Paulo died.
My gaze instinctively shifted toward him.
And unfortunately, all of us did the same.
The older woman noticed immediately.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she glanced behind her, confused why four students suddenly looked toward empty space at the same time.
Paulo, meanwhile, was just staring at her.
Completely speechless.
His eyes looked fixed on the woman's face like he was trying to memorize every detail all over again.
"She's my ate…" he whispered quietly.
Alicia tugged lightly on his sleeve before hugging him around the waist.
Even if she didn't fully understand everything, she could tell he was sad.
"You can see your family again now," she said innocently.
Paulo slowly lowered his head toward her, looking completely overwhelmed.
"I didn't know…" he murmured. "It's already been a year…"
The older woman was still looking at us strangely when Cynthia smoothly recovered again.
"We're Paulo's friends," she said gently. "We heard about today and thought… maybe we could visit."
Another bluff.
Another gamble.
And somehow, Cynthia kept landing all of them perfectly.
The older woman's guarded expression softened little by little.
"Oh…" she said quietly before opening the gate wider. "Please come in."
We thanked her politely and entered the house.
The moment we stepped inside, Paulo froze again.
Photos.
There were framed pictures of him everywhere.
One beside the television.
Another near the altar.
One large graduation picture that never actually happened.
It was edited.
I could tell immediately.
The picture looked professionally done, but the toga was added digitally.
Someone in the family probably made it because Paulo never got the chance to wear one himself.
Beside me, Paulo stared at it silently.
His fingers trembled slightly.
"They… made one…" he whispered.
Sarah looked at the picture too before quietly lowering her gaze.
Even Gino stopped talking entirely.
The atmosphere inside the house was warm despite the grief lingering everywhere. Relatives filled the space, chatting softly while food trays sat lined up on long tables prepared outside.
A memorial gathering.
Not overly extravagant.
Just enough for family and friends to remember him.
And somehow… seeing all of this made something click inside my head.
Maybe Paulo wasn't trapped because he wanted to study more.
Maybe it wasn't just graduation either.
Maybe what kept him here… was because he never realized people continued carrying him with them even after death.
The older woman guided us further inside while introducing herself as Paulo's eldest sister.
And the entire time, Paulo walked quietly beside us.
Not studying.
Not hiding.
Not avoiding people anymore.
For the first time since meeting him, he simply looked like someone trying to stay close to home.