The church was too quiet.
Sophie stood at the back of the sanctuary, staring at the casket draped in white lilies—her mother's favorite. The scent hung heavy in the air, sweet and suffocating. She hadn't expected the turnout. People she hadn't seen in ten, maybe fifteen years were there—neighbors, old teachers, women from her mother's garden club. Most hadn't spoken to her directly, just nodded with soft eyes and folded hands.
Her father sat in the front pew, his cane leaning against the bench. He hadn't said much since the stroke. His presence now was still and solemn, like a shadow of the man he used to be. Sophie couldn't tell if he was truly aware of what was happening or if he was simply existing, drifting in and out of memory.
When the service began, Sophie took her seat beside him. She couldn't remember the last time she'd prayed. But she folded her hands and bowed her head out of respect. Respect for a woman she had loved and fought in equal measure.
The pastor spoke kindly, but vaguely. About kindness and grace. About how her mother had been strong-willed and fiercely loyal. Sophie sat stiffly, wondering if anyone here knew how complicated their relationship had really been. How many things were left unsaid.
When it was her turn to speak, Sophie walked slowly to the front. Her heels echoed on the old wooden floor. She cleared her throat, paper shaking in her hand even though the words weren't written there.
"I didn't prepare a eulogy," she said. "Because I don't think anything I write could explain who she was."
She paused, eyes scanning the pews before returning to the casket.
"My mother and I… we didn't always see eye to eye. We fought, and we loved, and we hurt each other sometimes. But even when I left—especially then—she was always in the back of my mind. Her voice, her strength… they followed me."
Sophie's throat tightened. "She was hard on me. But I think, deep down, she just didn't want me to end up hurt. She wanted me to be strong enough to leave, but brave enough to come back."
Her voice cracked. "So I did. I came back."
There was a hush in the room. A stillness that felt sacred.
Sophie returned to her seat, folding herself beside her father once again. He reached over, grasping her hand with a trembling grip.
She held on.
---
The burial was colder.
The wind tugged at Sophie's coat as they gathered by the gravesite. The sun was slipping behind the hills, casting the world in gold and gray. She stood with her hands in her pockets, watching as the casket was lowered into the earth.
Jake appeared beside her quietly. She didn't need to turn to know it was him.
"She would've been proud," he said softly.
Sophie's eyes burned. "I don't know if that's true."
"It is."
They stood together in silence, the kind that didn't feel empty. Just shared.
"She was the first person to tell me I was too young to know what love was," Sophie said after a while. "I think she was trying to warn me about you."
Jake smiled faintly. "She used to glare at me like I was a stray dog you brought home."
"She thought I'd give up everything for you."
He glanced at her. "Did you?"
"No. I gave you up instead."
There it was. The truth, laid bare between headstones and frozen earth.
Jake didn't answer right away. He looked out over the field, his jaw tight. "I think we both gave each other up. It wasn't all on you."
Sophie nodded. "I wish I could take back how it all ended."
"Me too."
People began to drift away, nodding solemnly to her as they passed. Eventually, it was just the two of them left, and the wind.
Sophie stared down at the grave. "I kept thinking there would be time. To come home. To make things right."
"There never is," Jake said. "Not really."
She turned to him. "I don't know what comes next. I just know I don't want to leave with all of this still between us."
He studied her for a long moment. "Then don't."
"I'm not saying I'm staying forever," she whispered. "But maybe for now. A little while longer."
Jake nodded, slow and steady. "I'll take whatever time you give me."
Something unknotted inside her then. Something old and aching and long neglected.
She reached out, fingers brushing his.
And for the first time in years, she didn't feel lost.
She felt found.