Over and done with..

The next morning, my black SUV pulled into the parking lot of the police station.

I stepped out first, adjusting my jacket before I even looked up at the building. Mira came around the other side and linked her arm with mine, holding on a little tighter than necessary.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked quietly.

"No," I said. "But I don't have much of a choice."

An officer met us at the entrance.

"Mr. Hayes?"

I nodded.

"This way, please."

He led us into a small office with nothing but a desk, two chairs, and a single window that let in a thin strip of morning light. A clear evidence bag sat on the table, waiting for me before I even sat down.

"We recovered these from the scene," the officer said, sliding it toward me.

I looked inside slowly. Aysha's phone, the screen cracked in one corner. Her purse, the leather scuffed along the edges. A broken wristwatch. Her wedding ring sat there too, the same one I had put on her finger ten years ago. And beneath it all, a necklace I had bought for her on our first anniversary.

My hand froze over the bag.

"Do you recognize all of these items?" the officer asked.

"Yes," I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. "They're hers."

He nodded and wrote something down on the form in front of him before pushing it toward me.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about the vehicle?" he asked. "Anything unusual about the way she was driving that night, any calls she might have made before the accident happened?"

I shook my head slowly.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I wasn't with her when she left."

"Understood, sir. We're still going through the phone records. If anything comes up, we'll reach out."

"I will also need you to identify the body."

I signed the form without reading a single word on it. The officer picked it up, glanced over it, and gave me a small nod.

"Follow me."

The hallway grew colder with every step we took. Mira moved closer and held onto my arm again, but I never looked at her. My mind was somewhere far ahead of my body, already bracing for whatever waited behind that door.

"You don't have to do this alone," Mira said softly, her voice low and steady. "I'm right here beside you, no matter what."

I didn't answer her.

The officer stopped in front of a metal door and pushed it open.

A sharp smell filled the room the moment we stepped inside, something clinical and cold that clung to the back of my throat. Three covered bodies lay on separate tables, still and silent under thin white sheets.

The attendant walked over to the last one and slowly pulled the sheet back.

Mira gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.

"Oh God."

I didn't move. My eyes stayed fixed on the body in front of me.

The face was swollen beyond recognition. Cuts covered what little skin had been left untouched. One arm was wrapped in thick bandages, and the hair was matted and stained with dried blood.

The attendant looked at me.

"Can you identify her, sir?"

My jaw tightened. My eyes dropped to the bracelet still resting around her wrist, the same design as the necklace I had just seen sitting inside that evidence bag minutes ago.

I nodded once.

"That's my wife," I said.

The attendant covered the body again without another word.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the officer said quietly.

I stood there a moment longer than I needed to, staring at the shape beneath the sheet. Ten years of my life had somehow ended up on a table in a room like this, reduced to a form I had signed without reading and a necklace I recognized before anything else.

"Adrian." Mira touched my arm gently. "We should go."

Nobody spoke on the way back to the parking lot after that. The ride home was just as silent, Mira's hand resting gently on my knee, though I barely felt it. My eyes stayed fixed on the window, watching the city blur past without really seeing any of it.

"Say something," Mira finally said quietly, breaking the heavy silence somewhere along the highway as the city continued to blur past outside the window.

"There's nothing to say," I told her.

"You've barely spoken since we left that room."

"What do you want me to say, Mira? That I'm fine? That none of this bothers me?"

She looked away and didn't push any further after that.

By afternoon, funeral arrangements had already begun. Everything moved faster than I expected, faster than I think I was ready for. Calls came in one after another about flowers, caskets, and venue space, and I answered most of them without really listening.

Martha stopped me in the hallway at one point, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

"Sir, I still can't believe it," she said, her voice shaking. "She was just here two days ago, planning the anniversary dinner. She was so happy."

"I know," I said, though the words felt hollow leaving my mouth.

"Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"

"Just help with the arrangements," I said. "That's enough for now."

She nodded and walked away, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

The media picked up the story within hours, and one headline after another flashed across television screens by evening.

Young Billionaire Loses Wife In Tragic Accident.

News vans gathered outside the cemetery the following morning. Cameras waited near the entrance, ready to capture every second of it.

Guests dressed in black filled the seats one after another. Some whispered quietly among themselves. Others simply watched, waiting for the service to begin.

The white coffin rested beneath a canopy of flowers. I stood beside it in a perfectly tailored black suit, dark glasses hiding my eyes from everyone around me. Mira stood next to me in a black dress, her hand slipping into mine the moment the first camera turned in our direction.

Whenever another camera pointed toward us, she gently rubbed the back of my hand. Anyone watching from home would have believed she was simply comforting a grieving husband.

The minister stepped forward.

"We are gathered here today to say our final goodbye to Aysha Hayes."

The crowd lowered their heads. I stayed still, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, my mind drifting back to the wedding twelve years ago, to a version of myself that had once meant every word he said standing at an altar just like this one.

My phone vibrated once inside my pocket. I ignored it.

One by one, people stepped forward to drop flowers onto the coffin. Some offered their condolences. Others praised a woman they had barely known.

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"She was such a lovely person."

"Please stay strong, Adrian."

I nodded at every one of them, my answer never changing.

"Thank you."

An older woman I recognized as one of Aysha's distant relatives stopped in front of me longer than the others.

"She always spoke so highly of you," she said, her eyes glassy with tears. "She never stopped believing you loved her."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I simply nodded and let her walk past.

A younger man approached next, someone I vaguely remembered from Aysha's side of the family, maybe a distant cousin she used to mention on rare occasions over the years.

"She used to call me sometimes," he said quietly. "Not often. But when she did, she always talked about wanting things to get better here, at home. She never really said what she meant by that."

I felt something tighten in my chest, though I kept my expression flat.

"Thank you for coming," I said.

He nodded slowly and stepped aside.

Mira stayed by my side through all of it. Whenever someone stepped forward to hug me, she waited patiently a few steps back. The moment they pulled away, she reached for my hand again, as if she couldn't stand the space between us for longer than a few seconds.

"You're doing well," she whispered at one point, leaning close to my ear. "Almost done."

I didn't respond to that either.

Somewhere near the back of the crowd, I noticed a woman I didn't recognize standing alone, watching the service without approaching the coffin. She wore a plain black dress and kept her sunglasses on the entire time, even as the sun disappeared behind a passing cloud overhead. I made a mental note to ask someone who she was later, but the thought slipped quietly away as the minister continued speaking to the crowd. In all of this I didn’t see her parents but I shrugged it off cause it doesn’t matter, I just wanted this to be over and done with so I can breathe.

By the time the service ended, every major news station had broadcast the funeral live. Cameras followed us as we walked toward the waiting cars.

Mira wrapped both hands around my arm and leaned her head against my shoulder. The cameras caught that too, every second of it, capturing what looked like a grieving man leaning on the woman who comforted him.

Unknown POV

Miles away, inside a dimly lit room, a television remained on.

The funeral filled the screen from one angle after another. A man sat motionless in front of it, his eyes never leaving the picture.

His fingers slowly curled into a fist around the glass in his hand. It cracked under the pressure without him noticing. A thin line of blood ran across his knuckles and dripped quietly onto the floor beside his chair.

He kept watching. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second, though his breathing stayed slow and controlled.

The camera on the screen zoomed in once more. Mira smiled softly at Adrian before tightening her hold on his arm, the two of them looking every bit like a grieving couple to the rest of the world.

The man’s grip tightened again. Another crack spread across the broken glass in his hand.

His eyes burned as he watched how comfortable they looked together, standing there at his wife’s funeral like nothing in the world could touch them.