At my husband’s funeral, my son tightened his grip on my hand. Then he whispered, “You are no longer part of this family.”

It felt like everything around me was collapsing when he pulled the keys and the will away from me. He smiled as if I meant nothing.

I simply nodded… and before I walked away, I slipped something into his coat pocket. No one noticed. No one suspected anything. But when they discover it… it will already be too late.

On the day of my husband Eduardo’s funeral, the air carried the scent of marigolds and damp soil.

I was dressed in black. A shawl too thin to hide my tears.

Beside me stood Diego, my son. His jaw was set, his eyes locked on the coffin as if it were an unfinished responsibility.