𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘

The air hung heavy over Chicago, a palpable weight pressing down, as if Mother Nature herself mourned the day ahead. It hadn't started raining yet, but a gloomy sky promised an imminent deluge, mirroring the somber mood that had settled deep within Nina.

She stood before her father's open casket, the faint scent of lilies and regret clinging to the air, an aroma that would forever be etched in her memory. Her mother, a fragile silhouette in black, wept silently beside her, a trembling hand reaching for Nina's.

The pastor's kind words felt hollow, unable to penetrate the numbness that had encased everyone's heart. As the eulogy spoke of her father's accomplishments, Nina struggled to reconcile the described man with the one who had taught her to ride a bike, made silly jokes at the dinner table, and always had a warm hug waiting.

The finality of it all, the crushing realization that she would never again hear his voice or feel his strong arms, washed over her in despair. She squeezed her mother's hand, a silent promise that she would always be there.