I held the funeral for Mom. The mourning hall was awash in the scent of gardenias, her favorite flower.
The solemn atmosphere shattered when Layla walked in, holding Bryce's hand. The audacity of it made my blood run cold. As I watched, Bryce stepped forward, picked up three sticks of incense, and moved toward the burner as if he had every right to pay respects.
"Who gave you permission to be here?"
I intercepted him, sweeping my hand down to knock the incense from his grip.
The lit sticks scattered. A few flakes of hot ash landed on the back of Bryce's hand. He shrieked, instantly diving behind Layla for protection.
"Sis... it hurts! It hurts so much!"
Layla examined the faint red mark on his skin, her eyes flashing with misplaced indignation.
"He only came to offer incense, Brandon. Was that really necessary?"
Bryce peered out from behind her, his eyes already swimming with practiced tears. He reached out and grabbed my hand with a look of utter devastation.
"Brandon, I'm sorry. I just wanted to give you both a gift at the wedding. I really didn't know it would end like this! Sis has already punished me. I know I was wrong."