The funeral was as cold as the winter rain that beat against the windows of the small chapel. Elias stood at the back, his coat buttoned tight, feeling more like a stranger than a son. For ten years, he and his father, Arthur, had lived in a silence so thick it felt like a physical wall. No phone calls, no birthday cards—just a decade of stubborn pride.
Now, Arthur was gone, leaving behind a house filled with shadows and a heavy, suffocating stillness.