I never believed a single syllable of it.
When the heavy oak doors at the back of the church groaned open, the entire room went instantly, chillingly rigid. Jason stepped inside. He wore a sharply tailored black suit, his expression a carefully constructed mask of somber grief. But it wasn’t his stoic face that caused a collective gasp to ripple through the pews. It was the woman walking directly beside him.
She was a tall, striking brunette poured into a fitted, entirely inappropriate black cocktail dress. She clung to Jason’s arm with a brazen sense of ownership, pressing her body against his as if she were the grieving widow demanding the room’s sympathy.
My mother, sitting beside me in the front pew, sucked in a sharp, rattling breath. “Is he serious?” she whispered, her voice trembling as her fingers dug into my hand with painful, desperate strength.
“That’s Rachel,” I muttered, the metallic taste of pure hatred flooding my mouth. I recognized her name and face instantly—I had seen her name flash across Lily’s locked phone screen multiple times over the last six months, usually late at night. “The coworker.”
Heads turned. Angry, disbelieving whispers spread like wildfire through the congregation. Jason acted as if he were completely deaf to the scandalized murmurs. With staggering audacity, he led Rachel straight down the center aisle, marching her toward the very front row—Lily’s family row. He sat down just a few feet away from my weeping father and allowed Rachel to rest her head on his shoulder.
My blood boiled so fiercely I felt dizzy. I planted my hands on the wooden pew, preparing to stand up, ready to drag this woman out of the sanctuary by her dark hair, but my father yanked me back down by my elbow. “Not here, Em,” he whispered harshly, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Do not make a scene during your sister’s service.”
I forced myself to sit, my nails biting half-moons into my palms. The pastor took the pulpit, his voice echoing as he spoke of Lily’s boundless kindness, her infectious laughter, and the innocent baby boy who was taken before taking his first breath. Through the entire eulogy, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Jason. I watched his hand slip down to rest on Rachel’s knee. I watched her subtly stroke his knuckles. They were celebrating. Right in front of her casket.
