No one spoke. The world was still asleep, and for a moment, everything seemed suspended in a strange calm.

  "For Jake," Kali whispered, raising her cup.

  "For Jake," Nicco and Dahlia repeated in unison.

  The clink of the three cups sounded almost like a sigh. A silent toast in the midst of grief. At that moment, a ray of sunlight broke through the window, like a cruel contradiction: light in the middle of mourning.

  Then, all three phones vibrated at once. A dry, simultaneous buzz. Kali was the first to look.

  "Jake's funeral will be today. 5:00 p.m. Aarush Cemetery."

  The notification hit her like a slap. Her hand trembled slightly, but she said nothing. Dahlia watched her silently. Then she read her own message, and her lips tightened downward, tense.

  Nicco closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his jaw.

  "Today..." he murmured. His fingers gripped his cup tightly. "I didn't think it would be so soon."

  "I didn't think he'd be alive one day and the next..." Kali began, but her voice broke.

  The air thickened with sadness.

  "We're going," said Dahlia, firmly, as if her words alone could hold the other two together. "We'll be there. Together."

  Kali nodded slowly. Nicco said nothing but reached for Kali's hand on the table. She held it.

  After breakfast, Dahlia stood without another word and disappeared down the hallway. She closed the guest room door behind her, and the world seemed to dim. She sat on the floor by the open window and, with automatic precision, rolled a joint. The lighter sparked. Once, twice. Then the unmistakable scent filled the air.

  She inhaled deeply.

  The smoke burned her throat, but it clouded her mind just as she needed it to. She didn't want to think. Or feel. Only float.

  Her phone buzzed. A message from Tobías.

  "How are you? I know today is a hard day. I'm here if you need me. I won't let you be alone."

  Dahlia didn't reply. She just closed her eyes as the smoke painted shapes only she could see.

  In the dining room, Nicco and Kali had fallen silent again, but something had shifted.

  "It hurts," Kali said at last. "But you hold me up."

  Nicco put an arm around her shoulders.

  "We're not going to let this break us."

  "But it will leave a mark," she whispered.

  They stayed like that for a while. Bound by grief. By what was gone. And by what, despite everything, still beat between them.

  5:00 p.m. — Aarush Cemetery

  The sky was overcast. As if the city, too, wanted to cry.

  The group gathered in front of the closed coffin. Kali wore black, her lips pale, eyes fixed on the ground. Nicco stood beside her in a dark suit, his face hardened. Dahlia, more composed, looked like an elegant shadow. She stood just far enough to show them they weren't alone.

  There were no long speeches. Just a few words from the family. A few tears. A silence more eloquent than any prayer.

  When the coffin began to descend, Kali clutched her chest, as if something inside her had broken. Nicco hugged her from behind, firm, silent. Dahlia, still smoking at a distance, closed her eyes.

  A single petal fell from somewhere. No one knew where it came from. But everyone saw it.

  And in that second, something felt different. As if Jake were there. Watching them. Saying goodbye.

  Jake's coffin had disappeared beneath the earth, and the first shovels of damp soil struck the wood with a dull, unbearably final sound. The faces around the grave were stiff—some tearful, others just empty.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Kali was still hugging herself. Dahlia had moved to the back of the cemetery, the burnt-out cigarette between her fingers. And Nicco, standing by a cypress swaying gently in the wind, felt his stomach twist suddenly.

  He saw them coming.

  His mother, immaculate as always, in a gray wool coat, dark sunglasses, and pursed lips. His father, taller, with a square face and a scowl that suggested even being there was a burden.

  "Niccolò," his mother said sharply, with no preamble, no affection. "We need to talk. Come with us."

  Nicco flinched, looked back at Kali, sighed, and followed them to the large limousine waiting just outside the cemetery. He gave Jake one last glance goodbye.

  Aarush Cemetery

  Kali, still by Jake's grave, was the first to notice the familiar scent: floral, slightly powdery perfume, followed by the murmur of footsteps she'd recognize even with her eyes closed. She turned just in time to see her parents approaching between the tombstones.

  Her mother walked upright, hair in a flawless bun, her beige coat wrinkle-free. Her deeply focused eyes locked on Kali, as if to confirm she was still intact.

  Beside her, Kali's father wore a slightly rumpled coat and a face lined with worry. His hands were in his pockets, but his eyes never left her.

  "Kali..." Estela said as she reached her.

  Before she could reply, she was wrapped in a hug. First by her mother, tighter than she'd expected, then by her father, coming in from the side, enveloping her too.

  "Are you okay?" Estela asked, not releasing her. "Did something happen that night? Did you eat? Sleep?"

  "I'm okay, Mom. Really," Kali said, her voice cracking.

  "We were scared," Marcos added, his voice soft but sincere. "We didn't know if you were alright. No one answered the phone. And then... Jake..."

  The name hung in the air like another weight.

  "I know," Kali whispered, lowering her gaze. "I don't know how it happened."

  There was a moment of silence, then her mother stepped back slightly, examining her with that mother's gaze that saw everything.

  "Kali... I know you're hurting. And I don't want to sound harsh. But we can't ignore what you did. Skipping class? A party that ends in death? And I heard you nearly lost your clothes at a gym?"

  "Mom!" Kali protested, covering her face. "Who told you that?"

  "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you're caught up in things I don't understand," her tone was firm but not aggressive. "You're smart, Kali. But also impulsive. And that gets you into trouble."

  "I know..." Kali murmured, truly ashamed.

  Her father crossed his arms and sighed. Then he nudged her shoulder gently.

  "Look on the bright side, princess... at least you didn't swallow a fish in the pool, right?"

  Kali couldn't help but burst into a nervous laugh.

  "Dad..."

  "Hey, I'm trying to keep you from crying. You know how hard that is with your mom in Judgment Day mode?"

  Estela shot him a glare.

  "I'm not in Judgment Day mode. I'm worried."

  "And I love you for it, but we're at a funeral. Let her keep a shred of dignity," he said with a crooked smile, putting an arm around his daughter. "You look good. But I can tell you're carrying too much. You don't have to carry it all alone, you know?"

  Kali nodded, feeling a lump in her throat she hadn't noticed.

  "I don't want to lose myself. But all this... it's getting weird."

  "You have a home," Estela said, gentler now. "And you have parents who love you. You can come back whenever you need."

  "I know... but I can't leave Nicco alone..." she glanced around, not spotting her boyfriend. "He just lost everything."

  Her mother sighed.

  "I figured. That's why you said you came with him. Are you... living there?"

  Kali nodded without answering.

  Her father stepped in before another lecture began.

  "It's okay. It's temporary. And you're old enough to make decisions. Just don't forget who you are. Or where you come from."

  Kali smiled, her eyes a little wet.

  "I haven't forgotten."

  Estela stroked her cheek with disguised tenderness.

  "Then be strong. And take care of the ones you love."

  And with a few final hugs, they said goodbye. There were no threats. No punishments. Just a silent warning that time and choices weigh heavy. But also that love, when real, doesn't vanish because of a mistake.

  Dahlia hadn't come all the way to the grave. She watched from afar, where the wind blew stronger, as if keeping her on the edge of other people's pain—and her own. With her long coat billowing and the extinguished cigarette still in hand, the world felt heavier than usual.

  Then she remembered Tobías's message.

  She sighed. Her eyes trembled slightly, her mouth curling into a faint smile that felt like a trapped breath.

  She didn't reply right away.

  She wasn't even sure what she felt. Was it the sweetness of the message loosening her chest... or were there still traces of the joint she'd smoked that morning, alone, seeking calm and silence? She didn't know. And that unsettled her.

  "I can't trust what I feel right now," she thought, staring at her fingers. Her nails were stained with old ash.

  Then, the inevitable thought. An image that crossed her mind more often than she'd like to admit.

  Tom.

  Her soul pulled elsewhere. Far away. Florence. Another language.

  And yet, she felt it. As if her chest knew someone was missing—not someone she'd touched in this life, but in another.

  "How can you miss someone who isn't even here...?" she murmured to herself, with an ironic smirk. "You're pathetic, Dahlia."

  She slipped her phone into her coat and instinctively searched the inner pocket for a crumpled paper with the remains of another joint. Almost without thinking, she walked to a more hidden corner of the cemetery. She just wanted a few more minutes of fog, of forgetting.

  But then... something shone.

  It wasn't a headstone reflection. Nor a stray sunbeam.

  It was a limousine. Black. Long. Far too elegant for a place like this.

  Dahlia frowned. She saw it. Clearly. A few meters away, beyond the cypresses. Still. Silent. Watching.

  And just then, the limousine started to move.

  Something lit up inside her. A primitive alarm. Instinct—or perhaps that quiet voice she always heard just before stepping into something far bigger than she could understand.

  "Something's not right..." she murmured, turning quickly.

  She searched the crowd until she found Kali, just as she was saying goodbye to her parents, and approached her.