I wanted to scream. To tear that dress apart. To drag them both out. But I didn’t move. I stared at the casket and breathed, because if I spoke, it wouldn’t have been words—it would have been rage.
Emily had shown up at my house in long sleeves during July. “I’m just cold, Mom.” I pretended not to notice. She wore forced smiles, eyes shiny from crying in secret. “Daniel’s stressed,” she’d say, as if that explained everything.
“Stay here,” I would tell her. “You’re safe with me.”
“He’ll change,” she insisted. “When the baby comes, he’ll change.”
Hope can blind a mother as much as fear.
Daniel sat in the front row like he owned the place, one arm draped around the woman. When the pastor mentioned “everlasting love,” he let out a quiet laugh.
That’s when I noticed Andrew Collins, Emily’s attorney, rise from the side aisle. A serious man in a gray suit, carrying a sealed envelope.
He approached the altar and cleared his throat.
“Before the burial, I am required to read a legal instruction left by the deceased. Her will will now be presented.”
A murmur rippled through the church.
Daniel scoffed. “A will? My wife didn’t have anything I didn’t know about.”