Night had come. The streetlights flickered weakly and the sky above was covered with a blanket of stars, but Jack didn't see beauty in any of it. His feet dragged as he walked aimlessly through the neighborhood, hands stuffed in his pockets, his jacket clinging to him more for comfort than warmth. He didn't have a home. He didn't have a car. He didn't even have enough money in his pocket to afford a cheap motel. All he had was his hands in his pockets, and the noise in his mind that wouldn't shut up.
Eventually, he found himself in a quiet park, one of those older ones with benches that had been weathered by time and graffiti scribbled onto the wood like forgotten memories. He looked around, then dropped his bag and sat down on the cold bench. He leaned back and exhaled deeply. The night air was sharp, biting against his skin, but he didn't care anymore. He curled up as best as he could, his arms wrapped around himself, his head resting on the corner of the bench. The concrete path beneath his feet was cracked, just like everything else in his life. He closed his eyes and told himself one day he'd sleep in a five-star hotel. One day. But tonight, this bench was all he had.
Sleep didn't come easy. He woke up more times than he could count, startled by shadows, chilled by the wind, his body aching in places he didn't know could ache. Still, morning came, dull and overcast. He rubbed his face with numb fingers, stood up slowly, and began walking. Today was the funeral. His father's funeral.
By the time he reached the small churchyard where the burial was being held, the service had already begun. It wasn't hard to spot. There weren't many people. In fact, the scene looked pitiful. A few folding chairs, a cheap casket that looked like it had been borrowed or picked up at the last minute, and not a single flower in sight. It was quiet, awkwardly so. Jack slowed his steps and stared in disbelief. This was how his father was being sent off? This? No music, no tribute, no dignity?
It hit him hard, and it hit fast. His father, Gudan Revees, deserved better than this. Even with his flaws, the man had worked hard, sacrificed, tried to raise his family the best way he knew how. And this was how he ended up. Alone. Forgotten. Tossed in the ground like an unwanted item. Jack's stomach turned.
He scanned the few attendees. A couple of strangers from the neighborhood maybe, the kind that came out of obligation, and a few faces from the family. But not the ones he expected. There was no wife present, of course. She had vanished years ago, only to resurface later under someone else's last name. The woman had remarried and erased the memory of her husband like he had never existed. His only son, Jack, hadn't seen his father in months either. Jack had let pride and anger take over, told himself he was too busy, too hurt, too distant. But deep down, he knew he had failed his father too.
What made it worse was knowing the kind of man his father had become in the end. Old, sick, and surrounded by people who did not care. Gudan had tried to guide his family, tried to be a mentor, but instead he'd been turned into a burden. That's what broke Jack. The old man had died a lonely death and now he was getting a lonely funeral.
Jack's eyes caught movement to his right. Two figures approached him, both familiar, but not exactly comforting. Kyle and Giner. His two cousins from his youngest aunt, Nora. Giner stepped forward, her face twisted with fury. She didn't hesitate. She slapped Jack across the face so hard it echoed.
"You abandoned our uncle," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "You left him to rot here. You left him to die. And he had a stroke. A damn stroke."
The word echoed in Jack's ears. A stroke? His heart sank, his mouth opened slightly as if to speak but no words came. He staggered back a step, stunned. Tears welled up in his eyes as the truth settled in. His father hadn't just passed peacefully in his sleep. He'd suffered. He'd been helpless. And no one had been there for him.
Jack choked on his breath and cried openly. The pain clawed its way from his chest and up his throat until all he could do was cry. He wasn't even trying to defend himself. He knew it wasn't only his fault, but it felt like it. He also knew who had played the bigger part. His aunt Nora and her daughters. Giner, who stood in front of him now, and her sister who remained silent behind. They had always resented Gudan's guidance. Always treated him like he was some washed-up old fool who didn't know when to shut up. They never listened. They never cared.
Kyle stepped up next, eyes burning with hostility. He grabbed Jack by the collar and pulled him close, his voice low and threatening. Jack didn't even flinch. He just looked into Kyle's face with tearful eyes. There was nothing to fight for anymore. There was no point in resisting. His grief had drained every ounce of strength from his body.
Behind the two of them stood more family. Mary, from Aunt May's line, and Bruce, the one from Aunt Bernese. They both stood near the coffin, unmoving. Their faces were carved in stone. Not a tear, not a single emotion. As if they had been ordered to attend and had shown up out of obligation. Jack felt his heart tear even more. These were supposed to be his people. This was his family. But here they were, cold and silent, just like the cheap wooden box their father figure now rested in.
Jack took slow steps toward the casket. Each one felt like a punishment. The closer he got, the more his knees threatened to buckle. He looked down at the casket, unable to see his father but knowing he was inside. He rested a trembling hand on the wood. It was rough. Unfinished. Like no one even bothered to polish it properly. Just shove him in the ground and be done with it.
He wept quietly at first, then the sobs came hard and fast. He didn't care who saw. He didn't care who judged. This man had raised him. This man had taught him right from wrong, even when Jack didn't want to hear it. All those years wasted. All the silence. All the distance. All because Jack had let Samantha drag him away. That woman had poisoned everything. She had played him for a fool, made him think the world owed him something. And while Jack chased her and her empty dreams, his father was left behind.
He collapsed to his knees, arms resting on the coffin, his forehead touching the cold surface as the tears poured freely. If only he had stayed. If only he had visited once in a while. If only he hadn't let the lies blind him. He knew now that his aunts had done this. They had pushed Gudan to the edge. They had ignored his health, mocked his words, left him alone when he needed them most. And Jack, in all his selfishness, had let them.
The priest said a few short words. They lowered the casket into the earth with an indifference that felt criminal. No one wailed. No one reached for the casket. It was like they couldn't wait to put him in the ground and forget him forever.
As the final shovelful of dirt was tossed, Jack stood there, not moving. His shoes were caked in mud, his clothes wrinkled from the night before, his face stained with tears snd still bruised from the night before. But in that moment, none of it mattered. What mattered was the man who was now six feet under. His father had tried, and failed, but deserved better than this.
Jack turned and walked away slowly. Not because he wanted to leave, but because staying any longer would break him beyond repair. The faces behind him didn't matter anymore. The pain in his chest did. The guilt in his soul did. One day, maybe, he would forgive himself. But today wasn't that day. He would use that grieve to his advantage and become a tycoon. Everyone that had abandoned him will pay.