The funeral chapel was quiet except for the low rustle of black suits and the faint creak of chairs. A golden retriever sat beside the open casket, its eyes locked on the man in the center. It barked — once, twice, loud and clear, the sound echoing through the stone walls.
A man in a black suit stepped forward, his voice sharp and angry. “Get that animal away from me!”
The older man in a black overcoat looked at him, his voice low and steady. “He loved her family.”
The younger man in black suit turned slowly, his eyes meeting the old man’s. “Then why doesn’t her dog know you?”
Silence again.
The older man’s face tightened, the lines around his eyes deepening. The younger man’s eyes filled with something raw — shame, regret, maybe even fear.
The dog barked once more — louder, steady, undeniable.
“I am her family.”