5

CHAPTER 5 — The Day the World Stood Still

Liana POV

If grief had a sound, it would be the soft thud of soil hitting a coffin.

That was the thought that stayed in my head as Elise’s casket was slowly lowered into the ground. A sound so small, delicate even—but heavy enough to break a thousand pieces inside me every time it echoed.

People always say funerals are quiet, but they aren’t. They’re filled with breaths being held, throats forced to swallow, hearts breaking with such intensity they hum like electricity. The air moves differently around loss, thick and stubborn, refusing to pass through your chest without scraping something raw inside.

I stood between rows of black umbrellas and dark suits, the dull sky threatening rain but refusing to give even that comfort.

And across the grave… was Damien Evan Ramos.

I’d seen him before in the hospital, at the wake, but never like this.

His jaw was tight enough to shatter. His hand trembled where it rested on their daughter’s shoulder. His eyes—a man like Damien never let his eyes falter—but today they betrayed him completely. They weren’t just glassy; they were drowning. A storm behind them, restrained only by pride and the presence of too many people.

He stood perfectly straight, immaculate in a charcoal suit tailored within an inch of his life, but grief looked wrong on him. He was a man who lived with control as his religion. Loss was ungovernable, and ungovernable things terrified him.

I shouldn’t have looked at him for more than a moment. But I did. And he looked back.

Not searching. Not angry. Not confused.

Just… breaking.

The priest’s voice faded into the background, replaced by a low buzzing in my ears. I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until my vision blurred at the edges. I blinked hard, grounding myself in the cold wind brushing my cheek.

Then something small wrapped around my hand.

I looked down.

Ava. Elise’s daughter. Five years old. The quietest child in a sea of mourning adults.

She held my hand like she had decided it with absolute conviction. Her tiny fingers curled around mine with a trust I didn’t deserve and didn’t expect.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Auntie Li… I’m scared.”

The words punched the air from my lungs.

Auntie.

She had no idea. She didn’t know she was calling me exactly what I was. She didn’t know I was her mother’s sister. Her real aunt. The woman who should’ve been beside Elise through everything but wasn’t.

I swallowed, kneeling so I could meet her eyes. She had Elise’s eyes—soft brown flecked with gold, always filled with curiosity, innocence, and a spark of stubbornness.

“I’m here,” I whispered, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re not alone.”

She wrapped her arms around my neck without hesitation, burying her face against me. Her little body shook—fear, cold, grief, all tangled together into something too big for someone her size.

My heart cracked wide open.

I held her tighter.

I felt Damien’s gaze before I looked up. He stood rigidly, fists clenched, watching his daughter cling to me as if she were holding on to the last stable thing in the world.

For a moment, the grief on his face changed, softened—something like relief flickered there.

Like he was grateful.

Like he didn’t know how to help her.

Like he needed me.

But he caught himself a second too late. His expression closed off sharply, jaw tightening, shoulders stiffening—retreating back behind the armor he had always worn.

The priest finished speaking, giving a final blessing. People came forward to lay flowers. I stood, lifting Ava into my arms because she didn’t want to let go.

Her tiny fingers clutched the fabric of my coat, knuckles white.

Damien stepped closer, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Liana.”

I froze. Hearing my name like that—low, careful, almost reverent—sent a ripple through me I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Yes?” I forced my voice steady.

He looked at Ava first, then at me. “She’s… having a hard time.” He paused, breath catching slightly. “I’m doing what I can, but—”

The rest of the sentence died in his throat.

But he couldn’t reach her.

But she needed a woman’s presence.

But she clung to me and not him.

But he didn’t know how to grieve without breaking apart.

I stepped closer without thinking.

“She can stay with me for a bit,” I offered softly. “At least until she calms down.”

His breath left him in a slow, shaky exhale. “Thank you.”

Two words. Simple. But I felt the weight of them. Felt the truth inside them.

He trusted me with his daughter.

He trusted me with the only piece of Elise he had left.

Ava sniffed and pulled back slightly. Her voice trembled. “Daddy…”

Damien’s composure faltered for the briefest moment. He brushed her hair back gently, a gesture so tender it almost broke me.

“I’m right here,” he said softly.

She reached a hand toward him, one still holding tight to my coat.

Damien wrapped his fingers around hers, and something in his eyes softened again. Just a hint. Just enough for me to see the man Elise had fallen for once. The man I almost—

I forced the thought away.

The wind picked up, bringing the first drops of rain. Damien looked at the sky and exhaled slowly, adjusting Ava’s scarf as if to protect her from everything he couldn’t control.

“You can take her to the car,” he said quietly. “She shouldn’t stay out in this cold.”

His voice was calm, but there was a plea hidden beneath.

Please take care of her.

Please help me.

Please don’t disappear again.

I nodded. “I’ll bring her to you.”

His shoulders dropped an inch—not relief, not relaxation, but something quieter. A silent acceptance he rarely allowed himself.

We began moving toward the parking area. Ava’s little hand stayed tight in mine. At one point, she looked up at me with watery eyes.

“Will Mommy be cold?”

I stopped walking. My heart crumbled. I knelt again and held her face gently.

“No, sweetheart,” I whispered. “She’s safe. She’s warm where she is now.”

She swallowed. “Are you sure?”

I kissed her forehead. “I’m sure.”

She nodded and leaned her head against my shoulder.

When we reached the Mercedes SUV parked near the gate, Damien was only a few steps behind us, his expression unreadable. He opened the back door, and Ava immediately climbed inside and curled into the seat.

As I fastened her seatbelt, she whispered, “Auntie Li… you won’t leave, right?”

That hit harder than anything else today.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, touching her cheek.

When I straightened, Damien stood right next to me. Too close. Close enough that I could feel the heat from his body despite the cold.

The rain began falling harder.

He watched me, eyes darker than the storm clouds overhead.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For being here. For her.”

“I’m here for Elise,” I corrected softly.

“Yes,” he murmured. “But you’re also here for her.” He nodded toward Ava. “And whether you realize it or not… you’re here for me too.”

The honesty in his voice undid something inside me.

Before I could respond, someone called Damien’s name from behind us. A relative, looking frantic. He cursed under his breath, the first crack in his composure all day.

“I have to handle this,” he muttered.

“I’ll stay with her until you come back.”

He froze again. Looked at me like he didn’t expect mercy. Or help. Or anything from me.

Finally, he nodded.

As he walked away, moving through the sea of mourners demanding his attention, Ava called softly from the backseat:

“Auntie Li… can you stay forever?”

Forever.

A word I had never allowed myself to imagine.

I closed the door and leaned against the car for a moment, letting the rain hide the emotion in my eyes.

The burial ended. People trickled away. Condolences blurred into meaningless noise. My blouse was damp, my shoes sinking slightly into muddy ground, but none of it mattered.

Only two things mattered:

Ava.

And the man standing alone near the grave even after everyone had left.

Damien stayed at the burial site long after it was over, long after the workers placed the last shovel of earth. He stood as the rain poured down, head bowed, hair soaked, fists trembling at his sides.

I watched him silently from the edge of the path.

He was unraveling.

And he didn’t want anyone to see.

Except… he saw me.

His eyes lifted, meeting mine across the rain-soaked cemetery.

Something raw flickered there—something that demanded nothing yet asked everything.

He didn’t move toward me. I didn’t move toward him.

But emotionally? Some invisible line between us snapped back into place.

A line we had tried so hard to sever years ago.

Now… it was pulling tight.

X X X

An hour later, at the Ramos residence, Ava clung to my hand again the moment we stepped inside. The house was full of people, yet she only saw me.

Damien slipped off his wet coat and ran a tired hand over his face, turning to me.

“She’ll want you close tonight,” he murmured. “She hasn’t been sleeping.”

“I can stay,” I said softly. “Until she does.”

His relief was quiet—but undeniable.

“Thank you.”

A beat passed.

“You don’t have to hold everything alone, Damien,” I said gently.

He looked at me then—really looked—and for the first time since Elise’s death, the man I once knew flickered through the cracks.

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” he whispered.

I stepped closer without thinking. “Then let me help.”

His breath hitched. Just once. Just enough for me to feel its impact in my own chest.

But then he stepped back, putting a safe distance between us.

A distance charged with everything neither of us dared say.

“Not today,” he murmured.

“I know.”

Another long breath passed between us.

“But soon,” he added quietly.

My heart stopped.

I didn’t know if it was a warning or a promise.

And neither did he.