After the service, Daniel stood alone near the edge of the cemetery parking lot with his hands shoved into his coat pockets. He looked uncomfortable — like someone who desperately wanted to leave but knew it would seem heartless.
I walked over to him because by then grief had burned every ounce of softness out of me.
“You’re Karl’s cousin, right?”
He nodded once. “Daniel.”
“I thought his parents would come.”
“Yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’re complicated people.”
The second he said that, anger surged through me so fast it startled me.
“What does that mean? Their son is dead.”
Daniel looked at me briefly before looking away again.
“They’re wealthy people. They don’t forgive mistakes like the one Karl made.”
“What mistake?”
Before he could answer, his phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen like it had rescued him.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered quickly. “I have to go.”
“Daniel.”
But he was already hurrying away.
Fast.
Almost panicked.
That was the first crack in the story.
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