Chapter 290 Attend the Funeral

Chapter 290 Attend the Funeral
OLIVIA'S POV

Several days had passed since Evelyn's death. The initial shock had faded, leaving a hollow ache in my chest where grief now made its home. I sat in my living room, staring at the half-empty cup of tea that had long gone cold. The wedding that never happened felt like a distant nightmare, overshadowed by the loss of the woman who had been more family to me than most of David's relatives.

Andrew had been keeping us updated on David's condition and the details surrounding Evelyn's passing. According to him, she had died peacefully after seeing her grandson "settled down." The irony wasn't lost on me. Our wedding had been a complete disaster, ending with David unable to recognize me. How was that settled?

"She went to sleep content, believing you two would be happy," Andrew had said during one of his calls, his voice gentle but guarded. Since Sarah's accusations at the wedding, things between us had been strained. I hadn't confronted him directly—there simply hadn't been time with all the funeral preparations.

The phone rang again. Jessica, despite being six months pregnant, had been calling daily.

"Have you decided what you're wearing tomorrow?" she asked without preamble.

"The black Givenchy dress," I replied mechanically. "How are you feeling?"

"Bloated and hormonal, but I'll be there," she insisted.

"Jess, you don't have to—"

"Don't even start. I'm coming. End of discussion."

I smiled despite myself. Even with a baby on the way, Jessica remained fiercely loyal. I'd left Ethan at my mother's for the week, wanting to shield him from the heavy atmosphere. Tomorrow, though, he would attend the funeral with me. I couldn't hide death from him forever.

The morning of Evelyn's funeral arrived with a pristine blue sky that felt obscenely cheerful. We gathered at the Wilson family estate, where Evelyn had requested to be laid to rest in the private garden cemetery. It was her most treasured place—where generations of Wilsons had been buried beneath ancient oak trees.

Ethan's small hand clutched mine as we walked toward the gathering. His eyes darted around curiously. He wore a miniature black suit I'd hastily altered for him, his curls tamed as best as possible.

"Why is everyone wearing black, Mommy?" he whispered.

"It's a way of showing respect when someone has died," I explained softly.

David walked alongside us, a ghost of the man I once knew. His eyes were vacant, his movements mechanical. Since the wedding day, we'd barely exchanged ten words. What was there to say? The man I loved was disappearing, one memory at a time.

The procession moved slowly toward the burial site. Ethan, usually so energetic, seemed to sense the solemnity of the occasion and remained uncharacteristically quiet. David walked with his mother at the front, while my mother stayed close on my other side. Jessica had texted that she'd be missing the ceremony due to an unexpected prenatal checkup. Andrew had sent word he was running late—business matters, his message said.

As we reached the prepared gravesite, I felt a lump forming in my throat. The elegant mahogany casket was surrounded by white lilies—Evelyn's favorite. The sight made everything terribly real.

The minister began the service with prayers and hymns that echoed through the garden. Several family members spoke about Evelyn's wisdom, her sharp business acumen, and her unwavering dedication to the Wilson legacy. Throughout it all, Ethan listened attentively, occasionally squeezing my hand when he sensed my tears.

After the burial, while guests mingled and shared memories of Evelyn, I led Ethan to a quiet corner of the garden. We sat on a stone bench beneath a blooming magnolia tree. It was time for the conversation I'd been rehearsing in my head.

"Ethan, do you understand what happened to Great-Grandma?" I asked gently.

He nodded solemnly. "She died. That means she's not coming back."

His directness caught me off guard. "Yes, that's right. Her body was very tired, and it stopped working."

"Does that mean I'll never see her again?" His blue eyes widened with innocent curiosity rather than fear.

I chose my words carefully. "You won't see her in person again, but you'll always have memories of her in your heart. Remember how she taught you to play chess? And those stories about your dad when he was little?"

Ethan nodded, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Will everyone die someday? Even you and Daddy and our dogs?"

The question pierced my heart. "Yes, sweetheart. Everything that lives will die someday, but most people and animals live for a very, very long time."

"I'm going to miss her," he said simply, looking down at his shiny black shoes.

"Me too, baby. Me too." I pulled him close, inhaling the sweet scent of his hair.

After a moment of silence, Ethan looked toward David, who stood alone near the refreshment table, staring absently at nothing in particular.

"Mommy, why is Daddy acting strange? Is he sick?"

I hadn't prepared for this question today, but it was inevitable. "Yes, Ethan. Daddy is sick, but not the kind of sick like when you get a cold. His mind gets confused sometimes."

Ethan tilted his head, processing this information. "So his brain is sleeping? Or having bad dreams?"

His innocent analogy brought tears to my eyes. "Something like that. That's why we need to be patient and understanding with him."

"Will he get better? Like when your fingers couldn't feel anything, but then they did again?"

I swallowed hard, remembering my hand injury and the painful recovery. "I don't know, sweetheart. The doctors are trying to help him, but this kind of sickness is different."

Ethan nodded with surprising comprehension. "That's why we didn't have the wedding, right? Because Daddy's brain was having a really bad dream that day?"

"Yes," I whispered, amazed by his intuition. "That's exactly right."

He sat quietly for a moment, then slid off the bench. "Can we go say goodbye to Great-Grandma now? And then maybe help Daddy remember things?"

I stood up and took his hand, my heart swelling with love for this remarkable little boy. "That sounds perfect."

As we walked back toward the burial site, I spotted Andrew arriving at the edge of the gathering. Our eyes met briefly before I turned away, focusing instead on my son's small hand in mine.

There would be time for confrontations later. Today was about saying goodbye and beginning to heal.