Painted Secrets

The sky faded to a dense, heavy grey, as if mourning Liam. Aveline stood by the small coffin, fingers gripping the edge of her damp black coat. The air was thick with earth and chrysanthemums. Everyone whispered, but to her, the world had lost its sound since the accident.

The coffin was lowered. The grating ropes made Aveline's chest tremble. She held her breath, trying not to cry, but the tears still fell.

Across the grave, Adrian, her husband, stood rigid in a neat black suit. His face was completely expressionless. He seemed calm, stiff, as if he were attending the funeral of a stranger. Not a single tear fell from his eyes, despite the fact that the person in the coffin was his own son.

Aveline looked at him, hoping to see a fraction of the same pain she felt. But there was nothing there, just a blank stare piercing the overcast sky.

She bit her lip. The wound on her leg, a remnant of the accident, still throbbed. Although she was still limping and had to walk with crutches, the physical pain was nothing compared to the huge hole in her chest.

After the priest finished praying, people began to place flowers on the coffin. One by one, their steps receded, leaving Aveline and Adrian still standing silently beside the damp earth.

"He... should still be alive," Aveline finally whispered, barely audible.

Adrian did not answer. Only his eyes were fixed straight on the wet ground.

"Why, Adrian?" Aveline's voice trembled. "Why him, and not me?"

A long silence. Then Adrian's voice, flat, almost breathless. "It was an accident, Aveline. There's nothing we can do."

Those words pierced her sharper than a knife. Accident. It was so easy for him to call it that.

Aveline stared at her husband's face. The face she used to love, the face that now felt distant. Since that night, since the ambulance sirens and the shattering glass, something in Adrian had changed. He stopped hugging, stopped talking, even stopped grieving.

When the ceremony ended, guests offered brief hugs and empty condolences. Adrian accepted everything with mechanical politeness, while Aveline just nodded without hearing.

But as she turned to leave, her gaze was caught. Amidst the crowd starting to descend the cemetery hill, someone stood alone beneath a pine tree. A young man she didn't recognize.

He might have been seventeen or eighteen. He was tall, with narrow shoulders, his black hair wet from the rain. He wore a black jacket that prevented Aveline from seeing where he went to school.

Their eyes met. That gaze froze Aveline. There was something strange there. Not just pity, but warm and penetrating, as if the young man knew her.

Aveline quickly looked away, trying to remember if she had ever seen that face before. No. A foreign face. But somehow it felt familiar.

When she looked back in that direction, the young man was gone.

Only a faint shadow walking away among the gravestones

Adrian's black car drove slowly away from the cemetery. The rain was still falling, leaving thin streaks on the window glass. Aveline stared out the window, seeing the reflection of her own pale face.

In the driver's seat, Adrian was silent. The sound of the engine was the only noise.

It had been like this for days since the accident. No conversation, no touch. Their house felt like a museum. There was only a cold, quiet atmosphere, full of untouchable memories.

"I saw a strange boy at the funeral," Aveline said suddenly, still looking out the window.

Adrian glanced briefly. "Who?"

"A boy. He was standing alone there. As if he knew us, but I'm sure I've never seen him before."

Adrian didn't answer.

Aveline turned to him. "Do you know him?"

"Of course not." His voice was flat. "Many people come to funerals. Maybe he's one of your students?"

"He didn't look like my student."

"Stop it, Aveline." Her husband's tone was rigid. "Don't look for reasons to keep thinking about things that aren't important."

Not important. Aveline stared at the wet road ahead of them. Not important, that was the same word she heard every time she tried to talk about that night. About the car lights going out for a split second, about the strange sound from the engine before they finally hit the tree.

Adrian always answered with the same line. We both survived. Just let it go, forget it.

But nothing was "over." Their son was dead, and in Adrian's eyes, there was nothing to regret.

Their house on the outskirts of the city looked the same as before the accident. The small garden was well-kept, the porch light glowed softly. But when Aveline stepped inside, the air felt empty.

Liam's photo frame still hung on the wall, the boy's bright smile felt like an open wound.

Aveline touched the frame's glass with a trembling finger. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she whispered.

Adrian passed behind her without a word, putting away his coat and heading straight for the study. The sound of the door closing was soft, but to Aveline, it sounded like a wall thickening between them.

She stood for a long time in the living room, staring at the softly glowing lamp.

Her leg still hurt. The small surgical scar on her ankle was still fresh. The doctor said she was lucky to be able to walk again, even if she had to use a walking aid for a while. But luck felt like a mockery.

The rain stopped toward evening. Aveline stood at the window, seeing her reflection in the glass. Her eyes were swollen, her face tired. In the distance, across the street, someone was standing beneath a flickering streetlight.

The young man.

His jacket was the same, his hair messy, and Aveline recognized the look in his eyes. He stood still, staring at the house. The next moment, the streetlight went out briefly, and when it came back on, the figure was gone.

Aveline took a step back, her breath caught. Was she hallucinating? Or was the boy really following her?

She looked toward Adrian's study. The light from behind the thin door showed her husband was still there, busy with his computer as usual. There was no sign that he had seen anything.

Aveline finally closed the curtains, trying to convince herself that it was all just the effect of fatigue and unhealed grief. But deep in her heart, something was beginning to grow. A faint, cold, and disturbing suspicion.

That Liam might not have truly "left because of fate." And that the young man staring at her from the darkness knew something she did not.