CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The cemetery, Saint Charles

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Many people had come together, gathering around a dark wooden coffin that was soon to be buried under the ground. Elena hadn't want to see the pale face of her father, because it broke her heart to see proof of his death.

She couldn't imagine he would walk through the door anymore. It was all so real now. He had looked peaceful in the coffin, and she hoped she could remember him like that. He wasn't the best father, but he had been good to them. And she knew that now, in death, he had found his peace.

Tears were slowly running down her cheeks, but Elena didn't sob. She felt quite stoic as she watched her mother cry in the wheelchair. It was like she felt the shock of her father's passing only now, like reality only hit her in the face at the sight of her father's coffin.

She didn't want to cry. There were already enough people crying and Elena wanted to be strong. For Kay, who was sobbing loudly, for Emily, who was holding on tightly to Julie, and for her mother, who was silently wiping away her tears. But Elena couldn't push all the tears away. Her father was dead and he would never come back.

To Mia's pleasure, the hospital had allowed her to go to the funeral, but only if she stayed in the wheelchair the entire time. Julie didn't leave her side, so neither did Emily. Kay was holding Elena's hand, both for his support and hers.

Elena couldn't deny she looked over the crowd every once in a while. She saw many people she knew, like Mrs. Singleton, but she didn't find Asher. It broke her heart, though she knew it shouldn't. Hadn't she done the same to him?

Now she knew how much it hurt to not see a person she expected to see. Had she secretly hoped he would be here? The conscious part of her brain didn't want to see him again because she knew she would feel his love again. But it seemed that the unconscious part wanted to see him again so that she could feel his love again.

She startled when she noticed a presence to her right. A hand offered her a white handkerchief. She didn't have to turn around to see it was him who gave it to her. His smell was familiar, but the feeling inside her was what really gave him away.

She took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

"I'm sorry about your dad, Elena," Asher whispered, trying not to disturb the ceremony.

She looked down at the handkerchief in her hands so that she wouldn't be tempted to look at him. "I thought you wouldn't come," she admitted.

"Why not? Because you didn't come to my father's funeral?"

She nodded because she was unable to voice the words. She felt ashamed for not attending the funeral, but she had a reason why she hadn't come. Yet the reason didn't take away the feeling of guilt because she also missed Benjamin's funeral. Her hate for Mr. Singleton had been greater than her love for Benjamin, and she regretted it.

"I'm not that kind of man," Asher responded.

The words cut through Elena's heart. She had been that kind of woman. She had been the woman who knew how much Asher would need her, and still left. The woman who pretended she didn't care, but felt guilty because she didn't do what she was supposed to do.

And she was supposed to come to Benjamin's funeral. It shouldn't have mattered if Mr. Singleton got buried at the same time. She should've been there for Benjamin – and for Asher.

She didn't say anything to him anymore and watched the funeral in silence. It was hard to mourn her father when Asher was so close to her. If she reached out her hand, she would touch him. But she shouldn't touch him, even though a part of her wanted to.

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