The doubt that refused to be silenced.
While the staff prepared the room and spoke in hushed tones, Andrew felt something tighten in his chest, a silent resistance that made no logical sense but which he refused to ignore, like a thought that persists long after it should have disappeared.
“I just need a minute,” he said, his voice barely audible. “One last look.”
They hesitated, exchanging glances, but finally one of them nodded, and the lid was lifted with a slow, careful movement that echoed louder than it should have in the silent room.
The movement that changed everything.
At first, Andrew saw only stillness, and the familiar pain returned with all its force, but then something moved beneath the fabric of his dress, subtle but undeniable, like the slight ripple of water disturbed by a breath of air.
He blinked, certain that his mind was betraying him, but it happened again, more clearly this time, rhythmic and deliberate.
“Stop,” he said, the word escaping him before he could even think. “Please… stop everything.”
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