Chapter 171: Let's Go Home

Jane's POV

We held a simple funeral for Jennifer and Daisy. There wasn't time to notify many people, so only a handful of close friends and family came to see them off one last time.

The lingering scent of white chrysanthemums drifted in the air, and the candles on the altar flickered in the draft, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Their photo together sat on the table, a thin layer of dust on the frame's edge, as if no one had found the time to wipe it clean.

I'd brought along some small things they loved when they were alive—a keychain Jennifer always kept on her bag, and Daisy's favorite snacks—placing them beside the offerings.

Friends stood in the back rows, occasionally catching each other's eyes, wanting to say something but settling for quiet sighs instead.

When my fingertips touched the cold glass of their portrait, I suddenly realized how many words I'd never gotten to say. That thread of regret lingered in my heart, much like the silence that filled this empty funeral hall—subtle, yet achingly real.

"She always said that keychain brought her luck," I murmured to no one in particular, my voice barely audible above the soft whisper of wind through the chapel.

Walking up to Jennifer's grave later, I knelt down and gently traced my fingers across the cold headstone.

My gaze fell on the photo beside it—Jennifer's smile still bright and vibrant, Daisy's face radiating that unmistakable liveliness. Those familiar features hit me like a wave, and I couldn't hold back the tears.

My voice dropped to barely a whisper, as if I was afraid of disturbing them, "Rest in peace, my coach. I couldn't walk further with you in this life, but I hope in the next, you'll have no regrets and find nothing but happiness and joy."

"You know she'd tell you to stop crying and get back to training," came a gentle voice behind me. I turned to see Jack, Jennifer's former training partner, his own eyes red-rimmed but attempting a smile. "She hated when any of us got too sentimental."

I let out a shaky laugh despite my tears. "You're right. She'd probably say I'm wasting time that could be spent perfecting my form."

"'Tears don't build muscle, Jane,'" Jack quoted in a surprisingly accurate impression of Jennifer's no-nonsense tone, making several of us smile through our grief.

I turned to David beside me, my gaze sweeping across the scattered figures in the sprawling cemetery, my voice heavy with unmistakable melancholy. "All this time, I've seen so many vibrant people like them, people who fell into bottomless pits without warning, only to end up separated from us by death itself, without even a chance to say goodbye properly."

David fell silent for a few seconds, then gently placed his hand on my shoulder, his voice low and rough. "Yeah, life throws curveballs when we least expect them. All we can do is remember the good in them and carry that with us as we move forward. That's the only way to honor what we had."

"But why does it always feel like there's so much left unsaid?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

"Because there always is," David replied softly. "That's what makes losing someone so hard. But maybe that's also what makes the time we have with people so precious."

I stared at Jennifer and Daisy's names carved into the headstone, my throat tightening, my voice thick with barely contained bitterness: "But it was just some misunderstandings that could have been cleared up, and they ended up causing this kind of tragedy, taking so many vibrant lives. I just can't accept it. I can't let it go."

David didn't say anything more. He just silently pulled me into a gentle embrace, his hand slowly patting my back with a touch that was soft yet steady, his voice close to my ear, heavy with shared grief. "Those unresolved knots, those regrets we never got to fix—they're the hardest to bear. But we have to keep moving forward, living well for their sake too. Otherwise, all this regret would be for nothing."

"I just keep thinking about all the what-ifs," I whispered against his shoulder. "What if I'd been there? What if I'd called that day? What if—"

"Hey," David pulled back slightly to look at me, his hands still on my shoulders. "You can't carry that weight. Jennifer wouldn't want you to."

Just then, Ava quietly approached and placed her hand warmly on my shoulder, her voice gentle yet carrying a sense of release. "Let's just put a period on all these past cases. You're standing here with a clean slate—your mother would be proud of you."

I felt the warmth and support in her words, and tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time it wasn't all sadness—there was a sense of liberation too. I slowly nodded, my voice choked with emotion: "Yeah, it's finally over. All the truth has come to light. All the wrongs have been made right."

"Your mom fought so hard to clear your name," Ava continued, her voice thick with emotion. "She never stopped believing in your innocence, not for a single day."

"I know," I whispered. "I can finally face her memory without shame. That means everything to me."

Jack stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "Jennifer would want you to keep training, you know. She always said you had natural talent that shouldn't go to waste."

"Maybe," I said, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Maybe I will. For her."

A breeze swept through the cemetery, carrying away a few fallen leaves and some of the words that could never be spoken. I took one last look at the photo on the headstone and silently made a promise: I would live well, for them, and for all those who could no longer speak for themselves.

"Ready to go?" David asked softly, offering me his arm.

I nodded, taking one final look at the headstone. "Thank you for everything, Jennifer. I won't let you down."

Standing there, surrounded by the people closest to me, I felt a peace I'd never experienced before. The shadows of the past had finally lifted, and though the road ahead remained uncertain, at least I could walk it with my head held high.

"Come on," Ava said gently, linking her arm through mine. "Let's go home."

As we walked away together, I could almost hear Jennifer's voice on the wind: "Stop looking back, Jane. Your future's ahead of you, not behind."