Night’s slow end
As the night wore on, guests gradually drifted toward the exits, slipping into the cool evening air one by one. They left behind half-empty glasses and the soft shimmer of lights casting long, fading shadows across the room. The once-crowded reception hall slowly emptied, the earlier chaos settling into a quiet, almost tender stillness. I stood watching the steady stream of departures, each one feeling like another step away from a day that had been forever altered—marked now by a change that couldn’t be undone.
Night’s Slow End
Awkward family huddles
The room pulsed with an uneasy tension as family members gathered in small, awkward clusters, their conversations hushed as if afraid to stir up any fresh emotional wounds. My eyes drifted to Dad, who stood alone and distant, his stillness oddly unsettling. There was something in his demeanor—too quiet, too composed—that hinted at a hidden truth, as if he were holding back something important. The uncertainty surrounding him only deepened the already thick atmosphere, leaving the room heavy with unspoken questions.
Awkward Family Huddles.
