Novel & Cerita Mourning Never Comes

She spoke of her mother, a woman of quiet strength and boundless kindness, whose love had been the bedrock of Elara’s childhood. She recalled the scent of her mother’s lavender gardens, the gentle cadence of her voice as she sang lullabies. Tears streamed down Elara’s face, not the cathartic sobs of overwhelming grief, but a steady, mournful flow, a quiet acknowledgment of what was irrevocably lost. Kael simply stood by, offering a steady arm for her to lean on, his silence more eloquent than any words of comfort. He understood that this was not about forgetting, but about remembering with a love that outshone the pain.

Chapter 1: Danger “Mother, why did you leave me alone in this world?” murmured a girl in a weak tone while touching her mother’s gravestone that had just been stuck in the ground. Her bright brown iris did not stop looking at the mound of earth that had just been made. Underneath the mound of earth was her mother’s body, which had been lying there for eternity. The girl tried to hold back the cries that might escape her tiny lips. Because she was too focused on grieving, the girl did not realize that all the mourners who attended her mother’s funeral had returned to their respective homes, leaving her with a middle-aged woman who looked at her sadly.

I'd been with Leo Blackwood for five years. But we'd never once made it through a mating ceremony. Every time we were about to seal the bond, something would happen with Linda—his adopted sister. And every single time, Leo would leave me behind. This time, he swore he'd planned everything down to the last detail. Promised he wouldn't miss it. I waited five days and five nights—because I wanted to tell him I was pregnant. He never showed. Instead, I got attacked by rogues. Got infected with wolfsbane because of it. At the very last moment, I called Leo. It was Linda who picked up. She put the video on, and that's when I saw it—Leo and Linda, right in the middle of some celebration. "Freya." H

Jake "I don't know how to mourn losing something I didn't even know I had." Her voice is soft, but it hits like a punch straight to my chest. I can still hear it, playing on a loop in my head, like her words got stitched into my bones. And no matter what I do, I can’t escape them.

I say right before I disconnect the call, turn off the device, and put it into my back pocket. For this I need to be alone. … MONDAY MORNING BEGINS WITH RAIN, a slight drizzle that becomes a quick downpour as the day progresses. It's a day of mourning. No one officially died, but it feels as if I've lost everything important in my life. I sit on my bed and watch the raindrops as they slide down the window over the darkening sky outside.

I accepted the jar, cradling it in my hands with a mixture of reverence and sorrow. The weight of the jar felt heavy in my grasp, carrying the essence of my mother's being. The ashes, once a vibrant and vibrant force, were now contained within this fragile vessel. It was a profound reminder of the fragility of life and the eternal bond between a mother and her child. As I watched the mourners disperse, their presence fading into the distance, I felt a deep sense of loneliness. The absence of Madame Beatrice's physical form was now an undeniable reality, and the weight of responsibility settled upon my shoulders.

His voice and his reasoning are getting on my nerves already. “It doesn't matter if I have never met my mate before. He's dead, and there's nothing I can do about it. But, I can always mourn, right?” He nodded his head, but I could still see the confusion in his eyes. After a couple of minutes of silence, he gave up altogether.

NATALIE I can’t believe I'm here right now. I stand among the mourners at Mia’s mother’s funeral. The air is heavy with the scent of lilies and unspoken grief, pressing in on me from all sides. A part of me, a small, shamed part, tries to conjure genuine sorrow, to feel the sting of loss for a woman I barely knew. But the truth is that my presence here is to solidify my relationship with Mia. This funeral is not about mourning; it’s an opportunity.

Squeezing his hand once, he looks down at it, smiling. “What we had was never like this.” he mutters, my stomach does a flip and a flop. Don’t read too much into it, don’t be too eager. “Is it strange? To mourn a child that never existed in the first place.” “Of course not, it was real to you. You worked hard to find her.” “But it never existed, it was a lie.” “Your feelings weren’t. Grieve as long as you like, it’s important to you, so take your time.”

His jaw was tight and his eyes were on the water. "Mourning someone you realize you never knew is like standing in a house you've lived in for years and being told the foundation was rotten the whole time. The rooms are still the same but you can't stand in them anymore because you know they could collapse at any second." "Do you hate her?"