I answered with trembling hands. On the other end—dead silence.
Then a wail of heart-wrenching sobs.
"Elise… your dad… is gone."
"At the end he kept staring at the doorway. His eyes never closed…"
My whole body shook. I went limp in the back seat.
By the time I rushed to the memorial hall, it was already noon the next day.
Dad lay alone in the refrigerated coffin, dressed in the burial clothes Mom had bought.
I knelt on the floor, clutching his icy, stiff hand, crying until I nearly passed out.
Just a little bit more time—just a little bit.
I numbly exchanged pleasantries with relatives who came to pay respects.
The funeral was almost over when Colin finally showed up.
And trailing behind him was Scarlett, dressed in a riot of colors.
Colin's gaze swept over the portrait in the hall. His eyes looked sad, yet carried a trace of relief that was hard to miss.
"Elise, my condolences."
"Dad was sick for so many years. Passing on is also a release."
His hypocritical words made my skin crawl.
"If you hadn't made me give up my seat to avoid suspicion, I wouldn't have arrived a day late."
"My dad was waiting for me. He died without seeing me…"
Colin's expression stiffened.