Chapter 146

Chapter 146
NAYA'S POV

ONE WEEK LATER
The weight of grief seemed to hang in the very air.
It was Stella's mother's funeral. The churchyard was cloaked in a kind of quiet that pressed against the chest, broken only by the low murmur of voices, the rustle of black attire brushing against one another, and the occasional, stifled sniffle that carried on the wind. The skies themselves felt mournful—gray clouds gathered heavily above, the sun hidden away as though it couldn’t bear to shine down on such a day.

The scent of fresh earth mingled with wilting roses and chrysanthemums that lined the pathway leading to the gravesite. A faint chill drifted through, making me instinctively draw closer into Arthur’s arms. He held me firmly, his hand rubbing small circles against my back, quiet and steadying in the face of the somber atmosphere. Yet even his strength couldn’t fully shield me from the ache that surrounded us.

Stella stood only a few steps away, and though she was held tightly in Jordan’s embrace, her frame still trembled. Grief had carved itself into her expression—eyes swollen and red, lips pressed together as if to keep from breaking apart completely. Jordan, pale from his recent recovery, seemed to pour all the strength he had left into keeping her upright, his arm wrapped around her like he was trying to shoulder her sorrow too. Seeing them that way made something twist painfully in my chest.

Elijah was the only one who seemed untouched by the heaviness of the day. Nestled quietly in Aunt Nina’s arms, his wide eyes moved curiously across the crowd, too young to understand the finality that surrounded him. His little hand clutched absently at Aunt Nina’s dress, and she held him with a gentleness that spoke of both comfort and protection. She whispered something softly into his ear, a lull that only deepened the aching contrast between innocence and loss.

A little farther off, Lily and Stella’s younger siblings stood together, their faces blotched and sullen. They looked so small against the backdrop of mourning adults, shuffling uncomfortably, as though they didn’t quite know where to place their grief or how to carry it. Their sulking wasn’t of disrespect—it was the kind of sadness that left children confused, searching for someone to explain why the world suddenly felt colder.

The priest’s voice rose in the background, low and measured, speaking of rest, of peace, of letting go. His words blended with the shuffling of feet on gravel, the rustle of skirts and suits, the quiet sobs that occasionally pierced through the silence. I let my eyes fall shut for a moment, listening, feeling the steady beat of Arthur’s heart against my temple, trying to anchor myself in the warmth of his hold.

The coffin lowered slowly into the ground, ropes groaning under its weight. A soft collective gasp moved through the crowd—a final moment where reality hit sharp and undeniable. Stella broke then, her cry muffled against Jordan’s chest, and he tightened his grip on her, bowing his head close as though to absorb her anguish into himself.

I felt my own throat tighten, the sting of tears pressing behind my eyes. Funerals always carried that cruel reminder of impermanence, but watching Stella crumble in Jordan’s arms, seeing Lily’s tear-streaked face, hearing the faint rustle of Elijah shifting in Aunt Nina’s grasp—it all made the ache settle deeper inside me.

Arthur leaned closer, his lips brushing my temple, whispering words too low for anyone else to hear, a quiet vow meant for me alone. I held onto them, onto him, because in that moment it was all I could do not to be swept away by the grief saturating the air.

The sound of dirt being thrown onto the coffin echoed like a drumbeat of finality, and with each thud, the truth sank lower into my bones.

This was goodbye.

Soon enough... The crowd had begun to thin, mourners drifting away in small clusters, their voices hushed, their footsteps crunching softly against gravel as though the earth itself demanded reverence. I stood close to Arthur still, my hand loosely wrapped around his arm, trying to draw strength from his calm presence. My heart felt heavy, but in that heaviness, there was a kind of quiet steadiness, the sort you cling to when grief threatens to unravel everything.

I noticed Stella detach herself from Jordan’s side slowly, almost hesitantly. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her black dress, and her steps were small, like she wasn’t entirely sure she had the right to approach Arthur at such a time. But she came closer anyway, her eyes darting nervously between the ground and Arthur’s face. I could see the conflict written all over her expression—guilt layered with exhaustion, fear softened by the quiet resolve to finally speak.

When she stopped just in front of him, her voice came out low, almost breaking.
“Arthur…” she began, her tone lined with apology even before the words shaped themselves fully. “I know this isn’t the right time, but I haven’t really had the chance to apologize—for the documents, for taking them, for… betraying your trust.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, silence hung between them, heavy and fragile. My chest tightened as I watched her. I knew how hard it must have been for Stella to admit that aloud, especially here, at her mother’s funeral, with so much already weighing on her heart.

Arthur didn’t hesitate, though. His expression softened almost immediately, the hard lines of his face relaxing in a way that always reminded me why he was different from men like Victor. He shook his head lightly, as if brushing away a burden.
“Stella,” he said firmly but kindly, his voice carrying that quiet authority he always held. “There’s no need for this now. I understand why you did what you did. Desperation makes people do things they normally wouldn’t. You were trying to protect yourself, your siblings… your family. I can’t hold that against you.”

Stella’s lips trembled, her eyes widening as though she hadn’t expected such grace. For a second, she looked younger than she was, vulnerable and exposed, as though the apology had been sitting on her chest like a weight for too long. Arthur reached out and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder—not out of formality, but with genuine reassurance.
“What matters,” he continued gently, “is that you didn’t give in to Victor completely. You still made a choice, and in the end, it was the right one. That tells me more about your heart than your mistake ever could.”

I couldn’t stop the small smile that curved across my lips. Watching them, seeing the way Arthur spoke with such calm compassion and the way Stella’s face shifted from guilt to something resembling relief—it warmed something deep inside me. After all the turmoil, the secrets, the near betrayals, there was still room for forgiveness. For healing.

Stella sniffled, nodding quickly, her words almost tumbling over themselves. “Thank you… thank you, Arthur. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. Somehow.”

Arthur gave a faint smile, the kind that carried both firmness and kindness. “You don’t need to promise me anything, Stella. Just… take care of yourself, your siblings. That’s all the atonement I need.”

I exhaled softly, the tension in my chest easing. Seeing the two of them in that moment—Arthur with his steady grace and Stella with her newfound humility—made me believe, if only for a fleeting moment, that maybe the storm we had all been weathering was finally beginning to pass.

I glanced at Arthur, my heart swelling with quiet pride. He didn’t need to forgive Stella, but he did. He didn’t need to offer her comfort, but he chose to. And that was the man I loved—the man who could be steel when needed, yet mercy when it mattered most.

My smile deepened as I looked at both of them, silently grateful for the fragile but beaut iful moment of peace in the midst of so much loss.