The cemetery was too quiet.
Not silent—but heavy.
As if the air itself carried grief.
Ida clasped her children.Too tightly.
She didn't even realize it.
Rows of graves stretched before her.Names. Faces. Dates.
She read them without thinking.Counting years.Measuring lives.
Then she saw her.
A young girl.Too young.Still.
Almost their age.
You won't be alone, Ida thought, speaking to Pavel.
She imagined him as he used to be.Young.Alive.Smiling.
And then the thought came—sharp and unbearable.
"We are leaving you here."
Her chest tightened.The feeling was suffocating.
"You're hurting me," Viktor said suddenly.
"Me too, Mom," Marko added.
She froze.Looked down.
Their hands were red from her grip.
She let go immediately.
Only then did she notice—her trembling.Her tears.her heart racing wildly.
"You should have taken something to calm down," her father whispered.
She shook her head.
If she spoke, she would break.
Then it happened.
A strange sensation.
As if she were drifting.Falling sideways into another reality.
The world blurred.The silence warped.
Distant crying echoed strangely.
Even the trees looked wrong.Unreal.
The smell of candles mixed with the heat.Heavy.Suffocating.
Her head spun.
What is this?
The thought terrified her.
And then—something darker.Something irrational.Disturbing.
She panicked.
"Jesus Christ, Son of God… have mercy on me, a sinner."
She repeated it over and over.Faster.Desperately.
Trying to crush the thoughts before they took shape.
She pulled her children closer.
Holding them like anchors.Like protection.Like salvation.
Around her, people whispered.Cried.Murmured condolences.
"He was so young. May God forgive him."
Again.And again.And again.
Faces approached.Familiar.Distant.
They hugged her.Looked at the children with pity.Said kind words.
But she knew.
This would pass.It always does.
Shock speaks for people.Not truth.Not lasting care.
She had seen it before.
The promises.The concern.The warmth.
All temporary.
As the body is buried—So are intentions.
Life returns to itself.People return to themselves.
And she—remains.
Once, they had all gathered to celebrate her happiness.
Now, they stood as witnesses to her loss.
Soon—Everyone would leave.
Return to their own lives.Their own worlds.
And she would stay here.
In hers.
With three children.
And silence.