Riley's POV
The morning of the funeral arrives like a weight pressing down on my chest. I stand before my bedroom mirror, adjusting the black dress I chose for today. The fabric feels foreign against my skin, too formal, too final. My black heels click against the hardwood floor as I step back to examine my reflection. Do I look different now that I'm motherless? The girl staring back at me seems hollow, like someone carved out pieces of her soul and left empty spaces behind.
My friends have been relentless in their attempts to comfort me, bringing meals and staying close, but they cannot fill the void that has opened inside me. They cannot replace what I have lost. The guilt sits heavier than grief in my stomach. My mother is gone, and the blame rests squarely on my shoulders. How does anyone recover from that kind of devastation?
