Back then, I always offered her the front seat. But she would refuse and choose to sit in the back alone.
It didn’t matter anymore.
I turned my gaze to the rapidly passing scenery, my mind drifting to the call I’d received earlier from the funeral center.
My mother’s body had already been groomed. Her funeral was tomorrow.
The funeral director had asked if I had any additions for the ceremony.
He also suggested I discuss it with my wife, after all, the son and daughter-in-law played important roles in the service.
But watching Morgana laugh and chat with Evren in the front seat, I no longer felt like saying a word.
I quietly pulled out my phone and sent a message to the funeral center.
[Remove the daughter-in-law’s role from the funeral ceremony. Everything else stays the same.]
“Nash, who are you messaging?”
Morgana suddenly asked.
Without even looking up, I replied, “A friend.”
She didn’t press further, but throughout the rest of the ride, I kept catching her watching me through the rearview mirror, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
But I didn’t spare her a glance. I simply turned my head toward the window and stayed silent.