True Happiness
ARIA’S POV
The rain didn’t stop all morning.
It fell in sheets, heavy and cold, soaking through the black umbrellas, the black coats, the black everything. It drummed against the earth like the sky itself was mourning her. The ground was soft, wet, and muddy, but no one moved. No one even tried to find shelter.
We all just stood there—watching as they lowered Camilla into the ground.
My fingers were numb around the umbrella handle. I could barely feel the cold anymore. My whole body felt like it had been carved out and left hollow.
The priest’s voice was faint over the sound of the rain. Words about peace, about eternal rest, about souls finding their way home. But every word felt meaningless, floating away into the storm. Camilla wasn’t supposed to be a soul. She was supposed to be alive—laughing, teasing, breathing.
Julia stood beside me, her face pale, lips trembling. She looked like she wanted to throw herself into the grave too. Her mascara had long since melted into black streaks down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t even blinking.
Rosetta was on her other side, her expression frozen. She didn’t cry anymore. I didn’t think she could. She just stood there stiffly, her hands clasped in front of her like she was holding herself together by force.
The men from Camilla’s family stood in a tight line across from us, their faces blank, the kind of blank that only comes from deep, endless shock. Her mother was a shadow in black lace, her movements slow and fragile.
The coffin sank lower, ropes sliding through the wet hands of the men guiding it. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was thudding too fast, too loud, a trapped animal inside my chest.
And then came the sound that broke me—the sound of sand hitting the coffin.
Soft at first. Then harder. Louder. The dull thud of earth swallowing her.
Camilla.
Gone.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but it didn’t stop the anger burning in my veins. I could feel it—hot, wild, alive—twisting through the grief, drowning out the pain.
He killed her.
That man. The one who pulled the trigger.
I saw his face that night. The flash of his jawline in the dark. The glint of his gun. The way he didn’t even hesitate.
He thought he could disappear into the shadows, vanish like smoke. But he was wrong.
He didn’t just shoot Camilla. He shot a part of me too.
And I would find him.
I didn’t care what part of hell he crawled into—I would drag him out. I would make him suffer. Make him regret the day he ever crossed paths with her.
The rain poured harder, like the sky agreed with my rage.
When the last of the dirt was piled over the grave, silence settled over us. Not peaceful silence—this one was sharp, cutting through the air like glass. No one wanted to move.
Julia’s body suddenly shook. She turned toward me, her eyes wide and red, her voice breaking. “I can’t believe she’s really gone,” she whispered. “I can’t—”
Her words shattered into sobs.
Rosetta stepped forward immediately, wrapping her arms around Julia, holding her tight. Julia’s knees almost buckled as she cried into Rosetta’s shoulder, her hands clutching at her coat.
I couldn’t move. I just stood there staring at the grave.
My umbrella slipped from my hand, hitting the mud with a dull thud, and rain poured down on my face. I didn’t even care. I wanted to feel it. I wanted the cold to bite, to sting, to remind me that I was still here and she wasn’t.
When I finally tore my gaze from the grave, I saw Camilla’s mother.
Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale and worn. She looked so small standing there, like a ghost.
I walked toward her, each step heavier than the last. My throat burned, my lips trembling as I tried to speak.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I couldn’t protect her. I’m so sorry.”
Her mouth wobbled, and for a moment I thought she wouldn’t answer. But then she reached for me.
Her arms went around me, fragile but strong in a way only a mother’s could be. She smelled like rain and grief. “It isn’t your fault, Aria,” she murmured against my hair. “It isn’t your fault.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, my tears finally breaking free. “I promise I’ll get justice for her,” I whispered. “I swear it.”
She pulled back, looking at me through trembling lashes. “I lost my husband,” she said softly, voice cracking, “and now my daughter. Camilla wouldn’t want you to risk your life for her. Don’t let this destroy you too.”
I tried to smile, but it came out crooked and hollow. Because my mind was already made up. There was no turning back.
So instead of answering, I hugged her again—tight, desperate—like I could somehow share the pain between us and make it easier to bear.
When we finally pulled apart, her hand brushed my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Aria,” she whispered.
I nodded, but the words felt far away, lost in the roar of the rain.
By the time I turned back, Julia and Rosetta were waiting near the car. Julia’s eyes were swollen, Rosetta’s jaw tight, her face unreadable. We didn’t speak as we walked away from the grave. What was there to say?
The rain followed us all the way to the car, drumming against the roof like a heartbeat.
As we drove off, I looked out the window, watching the cemetery fade into a blur of gray. Each drop of rain on the glass felt like another memory slipping away.
Camilla’s laughter.
Her voice.
Her warmth.
Gone.
The hole in my chest was too big, too deep.
When we reached my house, I stepped out before the driver could even open the door. The rain hit me again, soaking through my clothes, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be alone.
I heard Julia’s soft voice call my name, but I waved her off with a weak smile. “I’ll be fine,” I lied.
She didn’t believe me, I could tell, but she didn’t push. She just nodded and turned away, her shoulders shaking as Rosetta guided her into the car.
I watched them leave until their taillights vanished down the road. Then I turned toward the mansion.
The gates loomed tall and dark. The house beyond them glowed faintly with light—warm, golden, and false.
I felt like I was walking into a cage.
Every step up the stone path made my stomach twist tighter. I just wanted to reach my room, curl up in bed, and forget the world existed. I wanted silence. I wanted escape.
But as soon as I opened the front door, I froze.
My father was there.
Standing in the middle of the grand hallway, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.
The air felt heavier suddenly.
My heart dropped.
My father’s voice cut through the quiet, low and sharp. “We need to talk, Aria.”
The words hit me like a stone.
Not again. Not now.
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