Night descended slowly, wrapping the house in deep shadows and flickering candlelight. Some mourners gathered on the front porch, seeking relief in quiet conversation, while others lingered near the kitchen for warmth and caffeine. Meredith remained seated in the corner, her head tilted back, eyes closed briefly in a fragile surrender to exhaustion.
In that moment of collective distraction, Luciana rose silently from her chair. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and strangely graceful, as though guided by careful intention rather than impulse. She climbed onto the chair, placed one knee gently upon the coffin’s edge, then eased herself inside with astonishing calm.
No one noticed until Cousin Harriet turned suddenly and gasped, her startled scream slicing violently through the quiet room. Chaos erupted instantly as relatives rushed forward, voices colliding in panic and disbelief.