The Unwritten Chapter

Six days had passed in a blur of paperwork, formalities, and silent grief. Cael accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Chang as they navigated the arduous process of settling his parents' death documents. The once lively memories of Patricia and Clide Baker had been reduced to bureaucratic steps: certificates, signatures, and waiting. Finally, the bodies of his parents were released, marking the beginning of the cremation process.

The air was heavy, thick with unspoken sorrow, as they stepped out of the car and into the Chang household. None of them spoke; there were no words that could capture the loss they all felt. The realization that Patricia and Clide Baker's funeral would be held in a month hung in the air like a shadow.

Standing on the steps of his new home, Cael cast a glance at the overcast sky, a reflection of his own heart. He clenched his fists, a silent promise forming in his mind. I will keep both myself and Jade alive and well in this lifetime, he thought resolutely. No matter what.

A Month Later

The day had come. A somber altar was prepared at the center of the room. A portrait of Patricia and Clide Baker stood proudly, capturing a moment of happiness and warmth—two smiling faces holding each other close. On either side of the photograph rested two urns, simple yet elegant, holding the ashes of the people that the original Cael had loved most in the world.

The last three days had been spent organizing his parents' belongings, which had finally been delivered to the Chang household. A special room had been dedicated to them, where the urns would be placed alongside their cherished items. It was a quiet sanctuary, one Cael had vowed to visit with every milestone he achieved.

As he knelt before the altar, his head bowed in reverence, he felt a deep guilt in his chest. Memories of his parents' laughter, their unwavering support, and the love they showered upon him flooded his mind. Silenceness and guilt streaked his face as he whispered his respect and gratitude to the portrait.

Around him, the low murmur of relatives' voices rose in a scattered chorus. Disrespectful whispers floated through the air, each one a sting to his grieving heart. He gritted his teeth but refused to let their words penetrate his resolve. They don't matter. Only this moment does.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder. Mrs. Chang's touch was light yet grounding, a silent reassurance that he wasn't alone. On the other side, Mr. Chang placed his firm hand on Cael's other shoulder, a quiet symbol of solidarity and strength. For the first time in days, Cael felt anchored, as though he wasn't bearing the weight of his grief entirely alone.

The day stretched on, suffused with an unrelenting gloom. Yet, as Cael stood before the altar once more, he made a vow to himself—a vow stronger than any whisper of doubt or wave of sorrow.

He would live well, honor their memory, and fight to protect the future he was now tied to. In that moment, surrounded by the ashes of the past, Cael made promises he would carry with him forever.