Silence fell like a curtain.

Then, a sudden sob broke through.

Everyone turned toward Louis—Elena’s husband—who had fallen to his knees, covering his face with his hands, crying uncontrollably. Shock spread across the yard. Mrs. Helen turned, barely able to speak:

“Louis… what are you saying… Did you hear her?”

He lifted his tear-soaked face, his voice barely audible:

“It was me… I caused her pain…”

The rain continued falling steadily as Louis choked on his words. His gaze never left Elena’s tear-stained face.

“That night… she discovered I was seeing someone else. She didn’t confront me. She just cried all night, clutching her belly. I promised I’d end it, but… the damage was already done. She was so shaken… That same night, she collapsed. I took her to the hospital, but it was too late. Elena… I’m sorry… I was wrong…”

Crying erupted across the yard. Mrs. Helen’s voice cracked through the downpour:

“Dear God… my child… Why did you have to suffer like this… My poor daughter-in-law… I failed you…”

Louis leaned his head against the side of the coffin, hands gripping the wood, voice trembling:

“Elena… I know I hurt you… I deserve your anger, your hatred. But please… forgive me. Let me carry you to your final rest…”

Then, the coffin trembled—just slightly.

The shaman nodded: “She’s let go.”

The eight men stepped forward again. This time, the coffin lifted effortlessly. The funeral trumpet cried out once more, bidding farewell to a woman who left far too soon. The mourners silently parted to let her pass.

Louis remained on his knees, rain mingling with tears, his heart heavy with guilt. He knew no apology, no sorrow, would ever be enough to erase what he had done.

And for the rest of his life, in every dream that came with guilt, he would see Elena’s tear-streaked face—reminding him that some wounds, no matter how deep the regret… would never fully heal.