I could hear murmurs spreading through the church, a wave of uncertainty and disbelief. My daughter, Lily’s mother, was sobbing softly in the front pew, her face buried in her husband’s shoulder. They had already endured so much. But something about Max’s reaction gnawed at me, refusing to be ignored.
“Open it,” I heard myself say, my voice barely recognisable, strained with an emotion I couldn’t yet name. The words seemed to hang in the air, suspended between the shock of the gathered mourners and the impossible request I had just made.
