The sky hung low and gray over Los Vinania. Clouds moved slowly, as if mourning too, draping the earth in a muted silence that matched the mood of everyone gathered beneath them.
The funeral was small.
Private.
Just as Maria would've wanted — not for lack of people, but because so few had truly known her.
A few chairs lined the gravesite, their legs sinking into the soft soil. A white casket rested under a canopy of lilies, roses, and baby's breath — flowers chosen by Ethan, who stood off to the side in a black suit, hands clasped in front of him, face unreadable.
Rafael stood near him, his tie crooked, his hair messy, as though even grief hadn't given him the strength to bother fixing it. He glanced back once, scanning the road with a nervous edge.
And then he saw her.
Mara.
