During the somber farewell of his father, eight-year-old Ethan suddenly screamed, “It’s my fault!” stunning the mourners. His mother, Lydia, always knew her son was sensitive, but this outburst during the quiet eulogy was startlingly out of place. Lydia’s heart raced as she noticed Ethan’s increasingly pale face and trembling hands. Frantically, she dialed 911, fearing Ethan’s words stemmed from something far more serious than guilt. “Ethan, try to calm down,” his mother calmly said while on the phone with a dispatcher. The funeral was briefly halted, as it seemed like little Ethan was on the brink of having his first-ever panic attack. “Breath in slowly,” his aunt said as she crouched down before him, grabbing his hands. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” Ethan repeated what he had said before. “It’s my fault,” and his lip began to quiver. He then burst into tears as his aunt tried to calm him down. His mother had put the phone down by now, and the police were on their way. She couldn’t help but ask Ethan what he meant by “his fault.” “Tell me what happened, honey,” she kindly said. But that only made matters worse. “He made me!” Ethan yelled, and he ran away. “Ethan, wait!” his mother tried, but he bolted out of the room, and she quickly lost sight of him. Lydia wanted to run after her son, but at that moment, the police arrived, and they wanted an explanation from her. But why did Ethan say it was his fault? What made him so upset? And why did he run away? Ethan’s father died suddenly without any warning signs. The coroner said he died from an acute heart failure, but his father had never had any trouble with his heart. It made it hard for his mother to come to terms with what happened, as she still had so many questions. She had been a mess these past few days, but Ethan never blamed her. Lydia worried about her son a lot. He hadn’t cried once since his father died, which was strange, to say the least. She had tried to talk to him about it to make sure he fully understood what was going on, but every time, it seemed like he was well aware of what happened. Not knowing what to do, Lydia even called a child therapist to ask for advice. The therapist told Lydia to wait until the funeral was over before making hasty decisions, so that is what she did. She made sure to include Ethan in planning the funeral, letting him pick the flowers for his father’s grave and the snacks they would serve. He seemed pleased to help, but something about him gave Lydia an unsettling feeling. The therapist’s words stayed with her at all times, but they didn’t ease her worry in every situation. For instance, when Ethan asked if he would ever get a “new Daddy,” Lydia was thrown off guard, not knowing how to answer that question. She wondered why he even thought about a new father while his actual father wasn’t even a week gone. The day of the funeral gave her a bit of comfort. She clung to the idea of closure for her son; seeing his father in the casket would hopefully make him see the reality of the situation. Little did she know this day would go very differently. As she approached her husband’s casket, holding Ethan’s hand, she felt her heart pounding in her chest; was this really a good idea? She stopped abruptly, pulling Ethan close to her. She looked into his eyes, asking him if he really wanted this. Ethan nodded silently, but his eyes stood unsure. Lydia sighed, she knew she couldn’t take this moment away from her son, as she could never turn back time as soon as the casket was in the ground, so they went ahead. Ethan reacted rather normally upon seeing his father in the casket. “It looks like he’s sleeping,” he quietly said, and it almost seemed like tears began to well up in his eyes. Then, he stepped away, and the tears were gone again just as fast as she thought she had seen them coming. It was a bit disheartening, as she had hoped for another reaction. The funeral began, and the officiant asked attendees to share memories of Ethan’s father. The room was filled with a somber silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle. Lydia held Ethan close, her heart heavy with grief. One by one, friends and family stood to share their stories. Each memory painted a picture of a man who was loved and respected by many. Ethan listened quietly, his small hands clutching his mother’s tightly. The words hung in the air, mingling with the scent of lilies. Ethan sat next to his aunt, Sophie, with whom he had a strong bond. Sophie squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering a small, sad smile. Ethan leaned into her, finding comfort in her familiar presence. The officiant’s voice droned on in the background, but Ethan’s focus was on Sophie. She had always been there for him, and now was no different. He felt a little better knowing she was by his side during this tough time. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. After Lydia spoke about her late husband, it was Sophie’s turn to speak. She stood up slowly, giving Ethan’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. Lydia gave her a nod of encouragement as Sophie made her way to the front. The room grew quiet again, all eyes on her. Ethan watched as Sophie took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the crowd before settling on him. She began to speak, her voice steady but filled with emotion, recounting cherished memories of her brother. Ethan joined Sophie as she approached the podium to talk about her brother. He felt a mix of nervousness and determination. Sophie’s hand found his again, and they walked together, a united front. The room seemed even larger from the front, but Ethan drew strength from Sophie’s presence. He glanced at his mom, who gave him an encouraging smile. As they reached the podium, Sophie whispered, “You’re doing great.” Ethan nodded, feeling a bit more confident, ready to support his aunt. Sophie began her eulogy with Ethan standing supportively by her side. She shared stories of their childhood, painting a picture of a loving and adventurous brother. Ethan looked up at her, seeing the mix of sadness and fondness in her eyes. The room was silent, everyone hanging on her every word. Sophie’s voice wavered a bit, but she continued, her hand never leaving Ethan’s. He stood tall, feeling the weight of the moment, but also the strength of their bond. As Sophie spoke, Ethan’s eyes stayed fixed on the casket. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze unblinking. The room’s quiet murmurs and Sophie’s voice faded into the background for him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his father’s still form held answers he desperately needed. The flowers, the soft lighting, and the solemn faces around him blurred as he focused on the one thing that seemed to matter. Sophie’s words washed over him, but his mind was elsewhere. Ethan began to act nervously, drawing Sophie’s attention. He shifted from foot to foot, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Sophie paused mid-sentence, glancing down at him with concern. She noticed his shallow breaths and the anxious look in his eyes. “Ethan?” she whispered softly, trying to keep her focus on him without losing her place in the speech. The room grew quieter as people noticed the small boy’s restless movements. Sophie took a deep breath. Sophie placed a comforting hand on Ethan’s back to calm him. She could feel his tension, his small body trembling slightly under her touch. “It’s okay, Ethan,” she murmured, trying to soothe him. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and filled with worry. The warmth of her hand seemed to help a little, his breathing slowing down just a bit. Sophie continued speaking, her voice steady and calm, hoping to reassure him through her presence and her words. Ethan suddenly shouted, “It’s my fault!” startling everyone present. The room fell into a stunned silence, eyes widening and heads turning toward the boy. Sophie’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Ethan’s shoulder. “Ethan, what do you mean?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. Lydia gasped from her seat, starting to rise. The whispering began, a low murmur of confusion and concern spreading through the gathered mourners. Ethan’s face was pale, tears brimming in his eyes. The funeral attendees were shocked by Ethan’s outburst. Gasps and murmurs filled the room as people tried to process what they had just heard. Lydia stood frozen for a moment, her heart aching for her son. Sophie looked around, seeing the mix of confusion and sympathy on the faces of friends and family. “Ethan, it’s okay,” she said gently, trying to calm him. But Ethan’s distress was palpable, his small body shaking with emotion. The tension in the room was thick. Sophie stopped her speech and looked at Lydia, who rushed over. Lydia’s eyes were wide with worry as she quickly made her way to Ethan’s side. The room seemed to hold its breath, everyone watching the unfolding drama. Sophie stepped aside, letting Lydia take over. “Ethan, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Lydia said, her voice trembling with concern. She knelt beside him, trying to meet his eyes, but Ethan was too distressed to focus. The air was thick with tension and worry. Lydia, worried for her son, saw Ethan turning pale and shaking. Her heart pounded as she noticed the sweat on his brow and his labored breathing. “Ethan, look at me,” she said, trying to stay calm. But Ethan seemed lost in his own world, his small body trembling with fear. Lydia’s mind raced, remembering the therapist’s advice. She glanced at Sophie, who gave her a nod of understanding. They needed to act quickly. “Everything will be okay,” Lydia whispered. Fearing a panic attack, Lydia dialed 911 as Sophie comforted Ethan. “We need help,” Lydia said into the phone, her voice urgent. Sophie wrapped her arms around Ethan, trying to calm him down. “Ethan, just breathe,” she murmured, stroking his hair gently. The dispatcher assured Lydia that help was on the way. Lydia’s hands trembled as she ended the call. She turned back to Ethan, her heart breaking at the sight of his distress. Sophie continued to hold him close. Lydia tried to soothe Ethan, who seemed overwhelmed by panic. “Honey, you’re safe,” she said, her voice soft but firm. She reached out, placing a hand on his cheek. Ethan’s breathing was erratic, his eyes wide with fear. Lydia felt a lump in her throat, but she forced herself to stay calm. “We’re here for you,” she added, glancing at Sophie for support. Sophie nodded, her arms still around Ethan. The room was filled with concerned whispers and worried glances. The funeral attendees watched with concern as the scene unfolded. Murmurs of sympathy and confusion spread through the crowd. Lydia’s friends and family exchanged worried looks, unsure of how to help. Some stood up, ready to offer assistance, but hesitated, not wanting to intrude. The officiant stepped back, giving the family space. Lydia and Sophie focused on Ethan, doing their best to calm him down. The tension in the room was palpable, everyone waiting for the next moment. Ethan shouted, “He made me!” and ran out of the room. His sudden outburst left everyone in shock, their eyes following his small figure as he bolted towards the exit. Lydia’s heart sank as she watched her son disappear from sight. “Ethan, wait!” she called, but he was already gone. The room was filled with gasps and murmurs, the tension almost unbearable. Lydia stood frozen, torn between chasing after him and dealing with the immediate chaos. Lydia wanted to chase after Ethan, but the police arrived. Their presence at the door brought a wave of new anxiety. “Ma’am, we need to speak with you,” one of the officers said, his tone serious but kind. Lydia glanced towards the door where Ethan had vanished, her heart aching with worry. She took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t leave without explaining the situation. “Please, my son… he’s in distress,” she pleaded. The officers nodded, understanding the urgency. Sophie quickly ran after Ethan while Lydia stayed to explain to the police. “I’ll find him,” Sophie assured her, already moving towards the door. Lydia watched her go, feeling a mix of gratitude and worry. “Thank you, Sophie,” she whispered, turning back to the officers. Sophie’s footsteps echoed as she hurried through the hallway, her heart pounding with determination. She had to catch up to Ethan and make sure he was safe. Lydia took a deep breath, ready to face the questions. The funeral was briefly halted, and attendees moved to another room. The officiant gently guided the guests, trying to maintain some order amidst the confusion. “Please, everyone, let’s give the family some privacy,” he said softly. People murmured in concern, glancing back towards where Lydia and the police were talking. The room emptied slowly, leaving behind a sense of unfinished business. Lydia felt the weight of their gazes but focused on explaining Ethan’s distress to the officers. Sophie hurriedly followed Ethan, hoping to catch up with him. She called his name, her voice echoing through the empty halls. “Ethan, where are you?” she shouted, her eyes scanning every corner. The building seemed like a maze, each turn adding to her urgency. She paused for a moment, listening for any sign of him. The silence was unsettling, but she couldn’t give up. “Ethan, please,” she whispered, continuing her search with renewed determination. She had to find him. The police reassured Lydia that her husband’s death appeared natural. “Ma’am, we’ve reviewed the initial reports,” one officer said gently. “There’s no indication of foul play.” Lydia nodded, relief mixing with the lingering sorrow. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling a bit lighter. The officers explained the next steps, ensuring her that they would keep her informed. Lydia listened, her thoughts drifting to Ethan and Sophie. She hoped they were okay. The officer’s calm demeanor helped, but the worry remained. Sophie finally caught up with Ethan and hugged him tightly. “Ethan, it’s okay,” she whispered, holding him close. Ethan’s small frame shook with sobs as he clung to her. “I’m here, I’ve got you,” Sophie repeated, her voice soothing. They stood in a quiet corner, away from the chaos. Sophie’s embrace felt like a safe haven, her warmth calming Ethan’s fears. She didn’t rush him, just held him until his breathing started to slow. “You’re safe now,” she murmured. The embrace helped calm Ethan down, and he stopped running. His sobs turned to sniffles, and he pulled back slightly to look at Sophie. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice trembling. Sophie nodded, wiping a tear from his cheek. “I know, but we’ll get through this together,” she said softly. Ethan nodded, feeling a bit braver with her by his side. They sat down on a nearby bench, Sophie’s arm still around him, offering comfort. Slowly, Ethan’s breathing steadied. The police asked the attendees to leave. “We appreciate your understanding,” an officer said, guiding people towards the exit. The guests nodded, offering sympathetic glances towards Lydia and her family. The room emptied out, the earlier hustle turning into a quiet departure. Lydia watched them go, grateful for their support but also relieved to have some privacy. She turned back to the officers, ready to answer any more questions they might have. The room felt strangely empty now. Lydia remained with the police, answering their questions. “Can you tell us more about your husband’s health?” one officer asked. Lydia sighed, recounting the details of his sudden heart failure. She explained the shock, the confusion, and the heartbreak. The officers took notes, their expressions understanding and compassionate. Lydia appreciated their thoroughness, even as it reopened fresh wounds. “We’re just trying to piece everything together,” they assured her. Lydia nodded, glancing towards the door, hoping to see Sophie and Ethan return. Sophie convinced Ethan to return to the funeral venue. “Come on, Ethan, we need to go back,” she said gently, holding his hand. Ethan hesitated, glancing back the way they had come. “But what if…” he started, his voice trailing off. “It’s okay, I’ll be right there with you,” Sophie reassured him. Slowly, Ethan nodded, and they began to walk back together. The hallways seemed longer, but with Sophie by his side, he felt a little braver. They reached the room, ready to face whatever awaited them. Ethan was shocked to see police officers in the room upon returning. His eyes widened, and he froze in place, clutching Sophie’s hand tighter. “Why are they here?” he whispered, his voice trembling. Sophie squeezed his hand reassuringly. “They’re just here to help, Ethan,” she said softly. Lydia saw them and quickly moved towards them, relief washing over her face. The officers noticed the commotion but kept their distance, understanding the delicate situation. Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest. Lydia ran to her son, relieved and concerned at the same time. “Ethan, thank goodness,” she said, wrapping him in a hug. Ethan clung to her, his small body still trembling. “Mom, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder. Lydia pulled back slightly, brushing his hair from his face. “Everything’s okay, sweetie,” she said, her voice soothing. She glanced at Sophie, who gave a small nod. Together, they would get through this. Lydia held him close. Ethan feared he was being arrested and clung to Sophie for comfort. “Are they here to take me away?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Sophie shook her head, hugging him tightly. “No, Ethan, they’re not here for that,” she said reassuringly. Lydia knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not in trouble,” she said gently. “They just want to talk and make sure everything is okay.” Ethan’s fear eased a little, but he stayed close to Sophie. Lydia asked Ethan what had caused his outburst. “Ethan, can you tell me what happened?” she asked softly. Ethan looked down, his fingers playing with the edge of his shirt. “I… I just couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he mumbled. Lydia exchanged a worried glance with Sophie. “What do you mean, sweetie?” she pressed gently. Ethan took a deep breath, his eyes filling with tears. “He made me do it,” he said, his voice breaking. Lydia’s heart ached with concern. The police gently asked Ethan questions to avoid upsetting him. “Ethan, can you tell us a little more about what you said?” one officer asked softly. He knelt down to Ethan’s level, his tone calm and kind. Ethan looked up, his eyes filled with uncertainty. He glanced at Lydia and Sophie, seeking reassurance. “We just want to help,” the officer added. Ethan fidgeted, his small hands gripping Sophie’s tightly. The officer’s gentle approach seemed to help, but Ethan remained hesitant. They wanted to understand what he meant by “it’s my fault.” “Ethan, what did you mean when you said that?” another officer asked, keeping his voice soft. Ethan’s eyes darted around the room, clearly anxious. Lydia squeezed his shoulder, giving him a nod of encouragement. “It’s okay, Ethan,” she said gently. The officers waited patiently, their expressions kind and non-threatening. Ethan took a deep breath, but the words seemed stuck. He shifted closer to Sophie, still not ready to speak. Ethan initially refused to speak, hiding behind his aunt. “I don’t want to talk,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Sophie hugged him tightly, rubbing his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Ethan. You’re safe,” she said softly. The officers exchanged a glance but remained patient. Lydia knelt beside them, her heart aching for her son. “We’re right here with you,” she assured him. Ethan buried his face in Sophie’s shoulder, his small body trembling. The room felt heavy with tension. Lydia reassured Ethan that he was safe and urged him to speak. “Ethan, sweetheart, you’re not in trouble,” she said, her voice calm and loving. “We just want to understand what’s bothering you.” Ethan peeked out from behind Sophie, his eyes filled with tears. “But what if…” he started, then trailed off. Lydia gently took his hand. “You can tell us, honey. We’re here to help,” she said. Ethan hesitated, then nodded slightly, feeling the support from his family. The officers waited patiently for Ethan to share more details. “Take your time, Ethan,” one of them said kindly. The room was silent, everyone focused on the small boy. Ethan looked around, seeing the concern and kindness in the faces of those around him. He took a deep breath, his grip on Sophie’s hand tightening. The officers didn’t rush him, their calm presence helping to ease his anxiety. Slowly, he began to find the courage to speak. Ethan finally began to speak softly, saying he saw his dad before he died. “I saw him,” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling. “I saw Dad before he died.” Lydia and Sophie exchanged worried glances, their hearts aching for him. The officers leaned in slightly, listening intently. “What do you mean, Ethan?” one of them asked gently. Ethan took a deep breath, his eyes filling with tears. “He told me something… something important,” he said, his voice barely audible. Lydia assured Ethan he would be alright as long as he told the truth. “Ethan, it’s really important to tell the truth,” she said, her voice steady and calming. Ethan nodded slowly, still clutching Sophie’s hand. “You won’t be in trouble, I promise,” Lydia continued. “We just need to understand what happened.” Ethan looked up at her, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. “Okay,” he whispered, taking another deep breath. Lydia squeezed his hand reassuringly. The police insisted on taking Ethan to the station for a formal statement. “We need to get a detailed statement,” one officer explained to Lydia. “It’s important to document everything accurately.” Lydia nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Will you come with me, Mom?” Ethan asked, his voice small and scared. “Of course, honey,” Lydia replied, her heart aching. She turned to the officers. “We’ll come with you,” she said firmly. Ethan looked up at her, feeling a bit more secure. Ethan hesitated but eventually agreed to go with Lydia’s encouragement. “It’ll be okay, Ethan,” Lydia said softly, her hand gently rubbing his back. “We’ll go together, and I’ll be right there with you.” Ethan took a shaky breath, glancing at the officers and then back at his mom. “Okay,” he whispered, nodding slowly. Lydia gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s my brave boy,” she said. The officers waited patiently, respecting the moment. Together, they prepared to leave for the station. Lydia promised Ethan she would stay with him throughout the process. “I won’t leave your side,” she assured him, holding his hand tightly. Ethan looked up at her, his eyes filled with trust and a hint of fear. “You promise?” he asked, needing to hear it again. “I promise,” Lydia said firmly. She turned to the officers. “We’re ready,” she said. They nodded, leading the way. Lydia and Ethan followed, their steps in sync, facing the unknown together. Ethan and Lydia drove to the police station, both visibly nervous. The car ride was silent, filled with the weight of unspoken fears. Lydia kept glancing at Ethan, her heart aching for him. “We’re almost there,” she said softly, trying to sound reassuring. Ethan nodded but didn’t say a word, his eyes fixed on the passing scenery. The station loomed ahead, a place that seemed both intimidating and necessary. Lydia gripped the steering wheel tightly, preparing for what lay ahead. Lydia tried to get Ethan to tell her everything on the way, but he refused. “Ethan, please, just tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded gently. Ethan shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “I can’t, Mom,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Lydia sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness. “Okay, but remember, I’m here for you,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Ethan didn’t respond, staring out the window instead. At the station, Ethan was taken into an interrogation room alone. “We need to talk to him privately,” an officer explained to Lydia. She nodded reluctantly, watching as Ethan was led away. “Be brave, Ethan,” she called after him. He glanced back, eyes wide with fear, before disappearing through the door. Lydia’s heart ached with worry. She was guided to a waiting area, where the minutes felt like hours. The cold, sterile environment did nothing to ease her anxiety. Lydia anxiously waited outside, unsure of what Ethan would reveal. She paced the small room, her mind racing with possibilities. Every few moments, she would stop and listen, hoping to catch any sound from the interrogation room. The officers had assured her this was standard procedure, but it did little to calm her nerves. She sat down, then stood up again, unable to find any comfort. Lydia’s thoughts were consumed with worry for her son and what he might say. The tension grew as Lydia imagined the possibilities of Ethan’s involvement. She tried to recall every conversation, every moment leading up to this day. Had she missed something? Was there a clue in Ethan’s behavior that she had overlooked? Lydia’s mind spun with questions. She glanced at the clock, feeling each second stretch into an eternity. Her stomach churned with dread. The waiting was unbearable, and the uncertainty gnawed at her. Lydia took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Lydia watched through a window, trying to see what Ethan was saying. She pressed her hands against the glass, her breath fogging up the small pane. Ethan sat at the table, looking small and scared, his lips moving slowly. The officers nodded occasionally, their faces calm and attentive. Lydia strained to hear, but the room was soundproof. Her heart ached, wishing she could be in there with him. She prayed that he felt safe enough to share his story. A police officer eventually asked Lydia to join them in the room. “Mrs. Carter, would you like to come in?” he said gently, opening the door. Lydia nodded, her legs feeling wobbly as she walked in. She saw Ethan’s eyes light up with relief when he saw her. “Mom,” he whispered, reaching out his hand. Lydia took it, squeezing gently. “I’m here, Ethan,” she said softly. The officers gave them a moment before continuing, creating a space of comfort. Ethan began his story, saying he had seen his father coughing up blood. “It was a few weeks ago,” he started, his voice trembling. Lydia’s heart tightened as she listened. “Dad was in the bathroom, and I saw him coughing… coughing up blood,” Ethan continued, tears welling up in his eyes. Lydia squeezed his hand tighter, her own eyes filling with tears. The officers listened intently, their expressions serious but kind. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” one asked softly. He explained that his father told him not to tell anyone about his sickness. “Dad made me promise,” Ethan said, looking down at his hands. “He said it would just worry everyone.” Lydia felt a pang of sorrow and anger. She couldn’t believe her husband had kept such a serious illness a secret. “He said he’d get better,” Ethan continued, his voice breaking. “He didn’t want us to be sad.” Lydia’s heart ached for her son and her late husband. Lydia realized her husband had kept his illness a secret to avoid worrying them. The pieces began to fall into place, and she felt a wave of grief wash over her. “Oh, Ethan,” she whispered, pulling him into a hug. “Your dad was trying to protect us.” The officers gave them a moment, understanding the weight of the revelation. Lydia stroked Ethan’s hair, her mind swirling with emotions. She felt sadness, anger, and a deep, aching love for her family. Ethan explained his father wanted to stay with him as long as possible. “He said he didn’t want to leave us too soon,” Ethan whispered, his voice breaking. Lydia felt tears sting her eyes as she listened. “He wanted to make sure we were okay,” Ethan continued, his small hand gripping Lydia’s tightly. The officers nodded, understanding the weight of the boy’s words. Lydia hugged Ethan, feeling the deep love her husband had for their family. He said his father insisted on keeping his illness a secret. “He made me promise not to tell anyone,” Ethan said, tears rolling down his cheeks. “He said it would just worry you and Mom.” Lydia’s heart ached at the thought of her husband bearing such a heavy burden alone. “I didn’t know what to do,” Ethan admitted. Lydia hugged him tightly, whispering, “You did nothing wrong, Ethan. Your dad just wanted to protect us.” After Ethan’s statement, the body was sent back to the coroner. The officers explained the next steps, assuring Lydia that they would handle everything with care. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” one officer said gently. Lydia nodded, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. Ethan stayed close to her, still processing everything he had just shared. The coroner would re-examine the body to confirm the cause of death, bringing clarity to the mystery that had troubled them all. The coroner revealed that Ethan’s father had stomach cancer. “It was quite advanced,” the coroner explained softly to Lydia. “He must have been in a lot of pain.” Lydia felt a fresh wave of grief wash over her. “He never said a word,” she murmured, holding Ethan close. The coroner nodded sympathetically. “Some people choose to keep their illnesses private,” he said. Lydia understood now the full extent of her husband’s sacrifice and the depth of his love. Lydia understood her husband had chosen not to undergo chemo, preferring a natural death. “He wanted to be with us as long as he could, without the side effects of treatment,” she realized aloud. The coroner nodded. “It’s a difficult decision many face,” he said. Lydia hugged Ethan tighter, feeling a mixture of sadness and respect for her husband’s choice. “He did it for us,” she whispered. Ethan looked up at her, finding some comfort in the truth. The funeral was rescheduled for the next day, allowing for proper closure. Lydia felt a sense of relief knowing they could say goodbye in a more peaceful setting. Friends and family gathered again, this time with a deeper understanding of Ethan’s father’s final days. Lydia held Ethan’s hand tightly as they approached the casket. The ceremony was filled with heartfelt words and shared memories, helping everyone come to terms with their loss. It was a step toward healing for them all. Lydia began to help Ethan grieve properly, supporting each other. “It’s okay to be sad, Ethan,” Lydia said gently one evening. They spent more time talking about Ethan’s father, sharing stories and tears. Lydia encouraged Ethan to express his feelings, whether through words, drawing, or just sitting quietly together. They leaned on each other, finding comfort in their shared grief. Each day brought small steps toward healing, and they learned to navigate their new reality together, hand in hand. They slowly came to terms with Ethan’s father’s death over time. The house felt emptier, and small reminders of him were everywhere. But Lydia and Ethan started to focus on the good memories. They looked at old photos, cooked his favorite meals, and even visited his favorite places. “Dad would have loved this,” Ethan said one day at the park. Lydia smiled, feeling a warmth in her heart. They weren’t forgetting him but finding ways to keep his memory alive. The process of grieving was long but ultimately brought them closer. Lydia and Ethan developed a deeper bond, understanding each other’s pain and supporting each other through the hard days. They talked openly about their feelings, which helped them heal. “I miss him every day,” Lydia said one night. “Me too, Mom,” Ethan replied. They hugged, finding solace in their shared loss. Over time, their grief became a part of them, shaping their relationship and making it stronger. Lydia and Ethan eventually found peace and moved forward with their lives. They continued to honor Ethan’s father in small ways, but they also allowed themselves to embrace new beginnings. Ethan started a new hobby, and Lydia reconnected with old friends. Life began to feel normal again, filled with new routines and joys. “Dad would be proud of us,” Ethan said one day. Lydia nodded, tears in her eyes but a smile on her face. They had come a long way.