Silent love

Chapter 56

On the previous chapter...

Seraphina rose after him. She didn't speak. She only touched the edge of the altar with gloved fingers and nodded once. A gesture of command, of respect, of pain. Then she turned and returned to her seat, spine straight, her gloved hands gripping each other hard enough to bruise.

Yaqueline rose next. She didn't speak either, only laid the rosary gently next to the lighter and touched the edge of the altar. Her hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, trembling slightly.

Immanuel moved forward next. No speech. No gesture. Just a quiet bow of his head, and then he joined Silvio again at the front.

Cecilia and Chrysanthe did not step forward. But their presence was no less potent. But their eyes spoke what words couldn't. They had loved Federico in their own way his charm, his madness, the way he always made space for them in a world that didn't.

He had meant something to everyone here. A brother. A leader. A madman. A protector. And now just a flame.

Outside, the sky had gone blood-red.

And for the first time since the day it all burned, the family stood still together in grief. Not healed. Not whole. But here.

And that, for now, was enough.

                                ʚ YAQUELINE'S POV ɞ

Some mornings, it feels like I wake up drowning.

Not in water. In thought. In memory. In sound that isn't even real anymore.

I sat across from Jacques at the long kitchen table, untouched food between us. He was chewing quietly like always. There was butter on his toast, a small jar of raspberry jam, steam curling from his tea. It all looked normal. Safe.

But my head wouldn't stop spinning.

There was static in the corners of the room, like a radio left on in another life. A memory that wouldn't die: the headphones they forced on me, the voices they shoved into my skull. Screams layered over each other. My father. Federico. People I loved. People I failed. People I'll never hear again.

They made sure I heard them until I couldn't tell which parts were real anymore.

"Jacques". I said, quietly. Too quiet. "What aren't you telling me?"

He didn't look up. Just kept chewing, slowly. That infuriating calm of his. Like everything wasn't on fire inside my chest.

"Nothing". He muttered. "Eat".

I stared at him. Blinked. My fingers twitched around the handle of my fork.

I knew he was lying.

He always blinked twice when he lied, once too fast, the second like he regretted it. He just did it. Right there.

I saw it.

I know him.

I gripped the edge of the table.

"Jacques". I said again, sharper now. "Tell me".

He sighed, finally meeting my eyes, and that's when I saw it, the pity. The hesitation. The thing people do when they think you're fragile and they're trying to protect you from yourself.

It made my stomach turn.

"Nothing's wrong". He said again, slower this time. "Relax, Yaqui-".

"No". I stood up, chair scraping back. My pulse was screaming in my ears now. "Don't do that. Don't talk to me like I'm made of glass. Tell me what the fuck you're hiding".