Elliot continued speaking as though he were discussing unwanted furniture instead of his own children.
“I’m not wasting my life raising children whose mother is already gone.”
A horrified silence settled over the cemetery.
Someone dropped a bouquet of roses.
My sister covered her mouth with trembling hands.
The elderly priest slowly lowered his head, unable to hide the disbelief on his face.
Even the funeral director looked stunned.
No one moved.
No one seemed capable of speaking.
My heart pounded so violently I could hear it in my ears.
I turned toward Elliot.
“What… did you just say?”
He released a slow, impatient sigh, almost as if I were the one creating an unnecessary scene.
“Walter,” he replied, using my first name instead of the respectful title he’d called me for years, “don’t do this today.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“My daughter has barely been buried.”
“I know.”
“You just announced you’re abandoning your daughters.”
He shrugged.
“Clara is gone. I have every right to move on.”
The words struck me harder than any punch ever could.
“And your daughters?” I asked quietly.
For the first time, Elliot looked toward the girls.
Only for a second.
His eyes passed over Nora…
Then Maddie…
Then little June…
As though they were strangers waiting at a bus stop.
Finally, he waved one dismissive hand.
“My fiancée isn’t interested in raising three girls who barely respect me.”
His tone carried no sadness.
No guilt.
Only annoyance.
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