I was rooted to the spot, my breath hitched in my throat, as Dad just ambled past us, a complete blank slate. Not a word, not a glance, nothing. Just that infuriating, empty stare I knew all too well. My stomach churned, a knot of dread tightening with each step he took away from us. How was he even here? He was dead. We mourned him. I saw the funeral. Yet, here he was, breathing and walking, like he'd just popped out for a stroll.
"It can't be," I whispered, the words barely escaping my constricted throat. Then it hit me – the sickening truth. We never got his body back, not really. Just... a mangled piece of something, unrecognizable. A chill snaked down my spine, colder than any grief I'd ever felt. The world tilted, my knees gave out, and before I knew it, I was tumbling down, the con
