Rafes family and Mera attend Rafes funeral, the mo
Rafes family and Mera attend Rafes funeral, the mood is gloomy but people are whispering saying rafe killed himself in the fire purposely because he was guilty of the murder. Rafes friend pulls Mera to the side and exposes that Rafe was covering up for someone and hiding things, and he’s freaking out. mera pulls away from his grip speachless. Mera notices the weird behavior of rafes father at his sons funeral and the way he talks about him. Mera begins to experience strange occurrences—things that remind her of Rafe and make her question whether he’s really gone.
The air hung heavy with the scent of lilies and grief. A cold, grey sky mirrored the somber mood at the cemetery. Rafe’s family, faces etched with pain, stood huddled together, the weight of their loss palpable. Mera, her own heart a leaden weight, squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push back the overwhelming wave of sorrow. She hadn’t known Rafe for long, but his vibrant energy, his quirky humor, had become a comfort in her life.
Whispers drifted through the mourners, like the wind through dry leaves. “He was guilty,” one muttered, “The fire…it was no accident.” “He couldn’t live with the truth,” another chimed in. The whispers circled around Mera, their venomous sting leaving a trail of unease in its wake.
Suddenly, a hand clasped her shoulder. She turned to see Noah, Rafe’s best friend, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed. “Mera,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I have to tell you something. Rafe wasn’t guilty of the murder. He was covering for someone, someone close to him. He was scared, Mera, scared they’d be caught.” He grabbed her hand, his grip tight. “I knew he was hiding something, but I didn’t know what. Now, it’s all too late.”
Mera pulled away from Noah’s grasp, speechless. She hadn’t been aware of the murder, hadn’t even known that Rafe was involved in something so dark. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos, of the whispers, of the grief that felt too heavy, too suffocating.
As the priest finished his eulogy, Mera noticed Rafe’s father, a man she had only met briefly, standing stoic, yet his eyes seemed distant, unfocused. He spoke about his son in an oddly detached manner, as if mourning a stranger. It was a chilling observation, further adding to the unsettling atmosphere.
In the weeks that followed, Mera found herself haunted by Rafe’s presence. A familiar song played on the radio, a melody that had always reminded her of him. A sudden scent of sandalwood, Rafe’s favorite cologne, would waft through her apartment, leaving her with a shiver of goosebumps. Was it grief playing tricks on her, or was something else at play?
As the days turned into nights, the whispers and the occurrences began to feel less like coincidence and more like a haunting. Was Rafe trying to tell her something? Was he trying to warn her about the truth? Or was this a cruel mockery, a phantom memory playing on her grief?
Mera knew she couldn’t ignore these strange occurrences. She had to uncover the truth, the truth about Rafe’s death, and the truth about the secret he was hiding. The journey ahead seemed daunting, but she was determined to find out if Rafe was really gone, or if he was still out there, reaching for her, desperately trying to be heard.
