The morning of the funeral, Gwen dressed with trembling hands. She slipped into a black dress Albert had always liked on her. She dabbed concealer under her eyes and reached for oversized sunglasses. She wouldn’t give Elizabeth the satisfaction of seeing her broken. Not today. Not anymore.
At the church, Gwen kept her composure. The hall was filled with mourners, soft organ music playing in the background. Elizabeth sat across the aisle in a fitted black coat, chin slightly lifted. When their eyes met, she gave the faintest smirk—small, but smug enough to twist Gwen’s stomach.