The Widow's Guardian

Chapter 27

BEFORE

The manicured lawn gleamed with dew and the blooming flower plots wafted fresh scents. The interior was as refined as the outside with a charming foyer that led to the viewing room. There was minimum noise, the benches were polishes, the flower arrangements were placed precisely, the patterned rug held a soft hue color, and the portrait before the casket was vibrant. Everything was perfect.

Except it wasn't. It was an illusion. Something that was painted for the mourners to believe everything was okay. But it wasn't. It was far from it.

I was able to disperse a polite hello as the chalky-skinned escort graciously opened the chapel doors making the rusty hinges scream through the skin-crawling silence. It was as if the alarm of death rang around the world, igniting the seven horsemen to race closer. I could hear their thunderous hooves that were as loud as my beating pulse in my ears.

I walked further down the aisle of the chapel that had the radius of Mrs. Seong's heart. It was small and cramped enough to smell the body odor emanating from the masses too drenched in sorrow to bathe. My soft footsteps were muffled against the thick carpet while my heartbeat was as loud as the churning sky outside. It would rain today and the rest of the week. I remembered it raining a month after the funeral.

I could hear deft fingers cascade over the organ while people spoke in hushed tones. I could hear the rustle of fabric and their sneakers squeak. I could hear the chandelier creak above and the young teenagers huddled in the back, sipping on their hidden flask. That was how quiet it was.

It was supposed to be like that at a funeral. Sometimes I wondered why. If I died I wouldn't have wanted people to weep. I would want them to cheer, to celebrate, to live. I wouldn't want them to be sad that I left, but happy that I lived. Death was inevitable, but it didn't have to be something to fear.

Except everyone was crying. People were sniffling, creaking the pews as they grabbed Kleenex and snatching the bibles. I tried to clear my throat through the wisps of smoke from the burning wax and the scent of decomposing flesh.

My throat felt as swollen as Ha-jun's eyes. He knelt beside the finest casket that was placed before a meticulously carved cross. It was crooked. Presumably, I must've been the only one in the right mind to notice.

My stomach turned when I heard him weep. He was just my boyfriend at the time and I never had seen him crumble. It was agonizing. I felt like I was going to crumble with him as he released a shuddering breath. The rain had done little to wash away the despair I've seen in Ha-jun's face this morning. I've never seen him cry, and it made my knees weak seeing his face crumble.

I placed my hand on the coffin for stability. Once I did, a sharp movement drew my eyes up abruptly.

I slowly turned around to find Ha-jun's mother's face with a mixture of horror and rage. The skin on the nape of my neck prickled. I became unsteady, flinching away from Mrs. Seong's raised hand. "How dare you come to this funeral. You aren't family. You weren't even invited!"

My breathing became restricted. Specs cascaded my vision. This isn't how I wanted to meet Ha-jun's family. I almost decided not to come. "I am his girlfriend," I muttered, bowing my head.

Mrs. Seong regarded me as if I was spit on the sidewalk. She shook her head in disbelief. "You are everything vile in this world." Mr. Seong nodded vigorously but didn't speak. He wasn't the man of the household. Mrs. Seong held the authority, and she was about to string me up on the rafters.

"You do not touch her," Ha-jun growled, blocking his mother's arm. His voice was sharp, mirroring the fury in his mother's eyes.

"Do not snipe at me when I lost one of my sons," she spoke sternly, her voice wavering. Tears threatened to slip before she morphed her expression to her cold collected self. She gave me a cruel smile before turning around to leave.