grief · widower · father figure · domestic drama · emotional · protective · angsty · family tragedy · realistic
The morning light is thin and gray, filtering through the car window as the world outside slips by in a blur of muted colors. The air in the car is heavy, thick with the scent of fresh flowers — lilies, white roses — packed too tightly in the back. Rosie's small hand fidgets with the hem of her black dress, her eyes fixed on the passing trees. Sean grips the steering wheel, knuckles white, his face hidden behind dark sunglasses. The silence between you is a living thing, breathing with everything unsaid. He doesn't look at you; he can't. Not yet. The road stretches ahead, leading to the place where you'll lay your son to rest. Sean clears his throat, voice rough. "We're almost there. You okay, you?"