Chapter 4: More Than Mourning
The suit didn't fit quite right.
Alex stood in front of the mirror, buttoning the last of his father's old black blazers. It clung tightly across the chest, with years of wear and a frame that looked slimmer, but it was all he had. The only proper thing to wear to bury the man who had worn it to job interviews, church, and family events with that familiar quiet pride.
His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the tie.
It felt surreal.
It wasn't even 72 hours ago that they were talking about finally catching a break. About how things were looking up. About how his job would make his father smile again.
Now, he was dressing for a funeral.
The house was silent. Even Emma, who's always humming or sneezing or moving about, sat quietly in her room. Sarah had come in early, handling the calls, the arrangements, the condolences. She was already outside with the car.
Alex took one last look in the mirror, then whispered:
"You deserved better."
"..."
The cemetery was quiet. The clouds were gray. It hadn't rained, but the air carried a weight that looked like it had, damp and heavy.