Chapter 2 Normal
Liyana’s POV
I didn’t cry when they told me.
Didn’t scream. Didn’t break. Didn’t even react the way people expect you to when your world supposedly ends in a single sentence.
I just… stopped.
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But somehow, I ended up here anyway.
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The funeral was nothing like the ones you see in movies.
No massive crowds.
No loud wailing.
No chaos.
Just… silence.Polished silence, expensive.
It was held inside one of our private estates on the outskirts of the city—because,I was told, my parents didn’t do anything small.
Hence,even their deaths had to be curated.
White flowers everywhere,imported lilies, orchids arranged so perfectly it didn’t even look real.
And two closed caskets.
I sat in the front row, directly across from their portraits.
My fingers curled into the fabric of my black dress as I stared at them.Mom looked the same as always,so graceful, composed, like nothing in the world could ever shake her.Dad… had that half-smile he used when he thought he’d already won an argument.
Gosh!My eyes felt heavy!
People came.
One by one.
They spoke in hushed tones, offered condolences I didn’t register, touched my shoulder like that was supposed to mean something.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“They were incredible people.”
“Such a tragedy…”
I nodded.I think…maybe.
I don’t even remember most of their faces.Just a blur of strangers pretending they knew my parents well enough to mourn them.
Some of them looked at me with pity.Others with curiosity.A few calculating.
I noticed.
Time blurred.
Minutes. Hours. I couldn’t tell.At some point, the crowd started thinning.The whispers faded.
The footsteps grew fewer.Until finally it was just me.
The silence changed then… it was melancholy.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, my eyes still locked on their photos.
Memories finally started slipping through—Family dinners that went on too long.
Vacations I pretended to hate but secretly loved just so I could relish their smell.Late-night talks that felt like they’d never end.
It felt warm.Soft.Like sunlight.
And then it shifted.The arguments—
“Liyana, you don’t understand…”
“Then explain it to me!”
“We’re trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
They never answered that.
Just more rules.More restrictions.More eyes.
“You’re overreacting,” I had snapped,pacing the room while Mom stood near the window, looking more tense than I’d ever seen her.
“We’re not,” she said quietly.
“This is insane! I’m not a child!”
Dad stepped in then, “You will listen to us, Liyana.”
And I laughed. “Or what?” I challenged. “You’ll lock me up?”
That was the moment.
“I’m leaving,” I said, grabbing my bag.
“Liyana—” Mom’s voice cracked.
But I didn’t stop.I didn’t look back.I left the country a week later.Told myself I needed space.Freedom.A life that wasn’t suffocating me.
I told myself they’d come around.That we’d fix it.That there was time…
There’s always time.
Right?
My vision blurred.I didn’t even realize I was crying until the first tear hit my hand.
Then another.
And another.
And suddenly—I couldn’t stop.It came all at once.
The grief.
The guilt.
The things I didn’t say.
The calls I ignored.
The last argument that never got resolved.
“I should’ve stayed…” I whispered, my voice breaking in the empty hall.“I should’ve just—”
But it didn’t matter.None of it did.
Because they were gone.And the last version of me they remembered—was the one walking away.
My shoulders shook as I covered my face.The sobs echoed too loud in the silence.
There was no one left to hear it.No one left to fix it.
Just me.
And the ghosts of everything I didn’t understand—but then—I felt a shift in the air.
A weight pressing against the back of my neck.
At first, it was just… subtle.
But it didn’t feel peaceful.I felt… watched.What I felt was a sharp, piercing kind of gaze, if I am to be exact.
I wiped at my cheeks, my fingers trembling slightly as I forced myself to breathe.“Get it together,” I muttered under my breath.
Grief does weird shit to your head.
That’s all this was.
Right?
Still—I couldn’t shake it.
My eyes drifted back to my parents’ portraits.
And then something moved.
I froze.
It wasn’t in front of me.It was in the reflection.
My breath hitched as I stared hard this time—at the glass covering their portraits.
A figure stood behind me.
He was tall.Very still, almost like a statue.
He was dressed entirely in black.A long coat.
A hat pulled low.Dark glasses that hid his eyes completely.And a ridiculous black umbrella—even though we were indoors.
He looked like a fucking grim reaper! Like what the fuck!
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.I turned around.Too fast.
But nothing.The spot was empty.The hall stretched behind me—vacant.
No footsteps.
No movement.
Yet there was no-fucking-body there!
The hell! Was I hallucinating?!
My chest rose and fell unevenly as I scanned every corner.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice sharper than I intended.
No response.
I swallowed hard, turning back slowly—the reflection was gone.
It was just me and the two smiling portraits staring back like nothing had happened.
A chill crept up my spine.“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Yeah. Cool. I’m officially losing it.”
I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingers to my temples.
Grief.
Shock.
Lack of sleep.
Pick a reason.
Any reason.
“Miss Whitmore.” I flinched.The voice snapped me out of the spiraling instantly.
I turned to see one of the staff members approaching—an older man I vaguely recognized from years ago, dressed impeccably as always, though his expression was…too careful.
“Miss Liyana Whitmore,” he said, stopping a respectful distance away. “I apologize for disturbing you.”
I blinked, still a little disoriented. “What is it?”
“It’s time.”
I frowned. “Time for what?”
He hesitated for just a fraction of a second before answering—“For the reading of your parents’ will.”
The words didn’t fully sink in.Not immediately.
Of course.
The will.
The legal stuff.
The part where everything gets signed and finalised so you get your semblance of a closure.
Normal.
Routine.
Expected.
Right?!
I let out a slow breath, pushing myself up from the chair.
“Of course,” I said, my voice quieter now. “Yeah. Of course it is.”
I glanced back at the portraits one last time.
Just in case.
“Miss Liana?” the man prompted gently.
I tore my gaze away.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I’m coming.”
