The call came late at night. Kian's father was gone. His respiratory issues had intensified rapidly, leading to a final, peaceful arrest under palliative sedation. He felt no pain.
The next day, Kian, Ariana, and Jessica arranged a simple, quiet service. It was for family and a few close friends. They gathered in a small room at the funeral home, the air still, the only sound a soft jazz melody;his father's favorite;playing in the background. There were no long speeches. They had decided that in the face of such a departure, silent, shared support was more meaningful than any words. 🎷
The burial was equally modest. Kian held Jessica's arm, his touch careful, mindful of her advanced pregnancy. Ariana stood close behind them, her presence a silent pillar of strength. As the coffin was lowered, the finality of it all settled heavily upon them.
Afterwards, they returned to Jessica's small house, now filled with the silence of a single, soon-to-be mother.
The following day, Kian looked at Ariana, a new resolve in his tired eyes. "I understand now," he said quietly. "He wasn't asking me to carry his end, but to protect his new beginning. It wasn't about taking on his final burden, but about safeguarding what he was leaving behind."
His heart was heavy, but it was a weight of responsibility, not of regret. His father's journey was over, but a new, crucial chapter of Kian's own life had just begun. 🚣