Broken

Chapter 55: Twice over

A few days later, it was Michael Taylor's funeral.

Zac stood in front of the church, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his eyes downcast. He dreaded the moment ahead—saying goodbye to his father. The weight of it all pressed heavily on him, the sense of loss deep and raw. He was going to miss the old man more than he could ever express.

A few paces behind, Fatima stood watching him, giving him the space he needed. She knew better than to rush him through this, and she silently respected his need for solitude in this moment of grief. After some time, Zac turned to her, his expression weary.

Fatima offered a soft smile, her eyes full of understanding. "Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, though it was clear that he wasn't really ready at all. She stepped up beside him, gently intertwining her fingers with his. Together, they walked into the church, the somber air thick with loss. They approached the casket, and Zac's eyes fell on his father's face, peaceful and still. Fatima looked over at him; he wasn't crying, but she could see the strain in his eyes, the way he was holding it all back, trying to be strong for everyone around him.

They turned, and Fatima's gaze landed on Zac's mother, who was sitting there, staring blankly at the podium. Her face looked vacant, her eyes empty of anything but the hollow ache of grief. Zac let out a sigh, the sound heavy with his own pain. It was clear the grief was consuming her, and Fatima could see how hard this was for Zac.

She leaned closer to him, her voice just above a whisper. "Go comfort her."

Zac nodded and moved toward his mother, taking a seat beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. The moment he did, she broke down, her sobs echoing through the quiet church, her tears soaking into his shoulder. Zac's eyes filled with tears, his own pain finally spilling over as he held onto her tightly.

Fatima watched them, her heart aching at the sight. She wanted nothing more than to take their pain away, but she knew all she could do was be there for them. She sighed softly, the judgmental eyes from those around them falling on her. Even in their sorrow, they still couldn't give her a break. She ignored them, her focus solely on Zac and his mother.

She walked over, sitting down next to Zac. She rubbed his back gently, offering silent comfort as the ceremony began. The soft touch seemed to ground him, and he leaned into her touch slightly, grateful for her presence. Fatima stayed by his side, knowing that today, all she needed to be was a steady anchor for the ones she loved.

The pastor stood, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. When the ceremony began, Zac reached for Fatima's hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Fatima looked at him, their eyes meeting for a moment. In that brief exchange, Zac found a sense of solace—an unspoken understanding that he wasn't alone in his grief.

Fatima gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her gaze softening as she offered him all the support she could without words. It was enough. It had to be.

The pastor began to speak, his voice gentle yet resonant, drawing their attention forward. Zac and Fatima turned their eyes toward the pulpit, listening to the solemn words that filled the church. The pastor spoke of Michael Taylor's life, his contributions, and the love he'd shared with his family. As he talked about Michael's kindness and dedication, Zac's heart ached with every word. He knew his father wasn't perfect, but there was so much good in him—good that had shaped who Zac was today.

Fatima's eyes shifted to Zac's mother, who was wiping tears from her cheeks, her frame trembling slightly from the weight of her emotions. Fatima's heart went out to her. She glanced at Zac, noticing how tightly he was holding onto her hand, as though it was his only lifeline in this sea of sorrow.