Roger applied the brakes, bringing the car to a gentle stop outside the graveyard. Without exchanging a word, he and Varya stepped out as they made their way inside.
In her hands, Varya carried a bouquet of white lilies, the flowers Matteo had loved the most.
As they walked across the damp, grassy ground, a cold wind swept through the cemetery, rustling the leaves.
Finally, Roger came to a stop. His gaze fell upon the gravestone in front of him—Matteo's name etched into the stone. His throat tightened, but he said nothing, simply staring at the grave.
Varya glanced at it and her eyes brimmed with years. She placed the flowers over the gravestone and stayed on her knees for a while as she offered a silent prayer.
After some time, Varya stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes using the pads of her fingers. "He was a good soul. I hope he's resting in peace now," Varya said with a soft smile, placing the lilies gently on the grave.
