Leaving the staff room, we were met with a quiet school. Lunch break was over. Lessons had resumed.

In the stillness, I could hear the two young officers discussing the case in hushed tones, their voices strangely enthusiastic.

Sol looked to the side, where the afternoon light couldn’t quite reach the walkway. He was deep in thought.

Despite the terrible incident, school activities continued. They had to.

And somehow, that reminded me of the determined teacher who tried her best.

Sol made sure we stopped for lunch. He chose a quaint café by the roadside—I think he did that on purpose.

Ren was talking about the time he and Eli chanced upon a robbery and stopped it. He praised his friend so many times that Eli kept blushing, occasionally returning the applause.

“I’m proud of him,” he said.

I felt strangely empty.

No one talks about me like that.

Sol observed the exchange, frequently joining the conversation. When he had nothing to say, he’d glance at me.

Each time, his smile seemed to fade.

Was I that unpleasant to be around?

When we stood to leave, Sol picked up the bill without a word. Not unusual.

But as we filed out, he fell into step beside me, leaving Ren and Eli’s conversation to carry on ahead of us.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

As we got closer to the funeral home, the atmosphere shifted. The liveliness of yesterday’s evening was nowhere to be found.

Parked cars lined the small road outside the building, and almost everyone held flowers.

Suddenly, I wanted to get one too.

Spotting a small flower stall nearby, I hurried over. Of course, these opportunistic flower vendors would set up outside a funeral home. I had to commend their business foresight.

An array of flowers was laid out. The vendor jumped up from his seat and asked what I needed.

I picked the one that looked the most beautiful.

Afterwards, he told me it was called a marigold.

Marigold in hand, I rejoined the others. It was a single stalk. I didn’t want to spend too much. Sol was enamoured. “What’s with the flowers? A marigold too.”

“It was pretty.”

“It is…” he murmured, before stomping his feet like a child.

“I should’ve bought one too!” he whined.

Without another word, Ren rushed over to the vendor and ordered armfuls of bouquets. ’It’s only right that everyone has one,” he said.

Eli stayed with us. “Don’t mind Ren. He’s always like that—though he can be pretty thoughtful sometimes.” He motioned to the marigold. “You made an excellent choice.”

“Thank you.”

It looked like he wanted to ask more, but my dry reply turned him off.

When Ren returned, he planted a bouquet in each of our hands.

“I already have one.”

“I thought you’d want to keep the one you picked yourself,” he added bashfully. “After all, I’m here for you.”

Now that I had a spare, I could afford to be a little selfish.

She was loved. There were so many people settling down.

The parents stood near the entrance, greeting and thanking everyone who made time to come.

“You didn’t have to come, but thank you.” The mother quietly said, before ushering us to the back row seats.

The father shook our hands. “Thank you for coming to Iris’s funeral.”

Oh. Iris was the girl with the ponytail.

Looking around, the atmosphere was heavy. The dim lights made the orange petals of the marigold glow ever so slightly.

I ran my fingers over the petals.

In a room full of tension, it stayed steadfast.

I was envious.

Scanning the room, I noticed Nora. Next to her, a teenage boy sat quietly. I didn’t know she had a son, but they looked nothing alike.

The boy had the sharpest eyes. His piercing gaze left no doubt about his intelligence. Forlornly, he looked forward, eyes resting on the casket ahead.

Nora spotted me peeking. Giving me a small nod, she turned to the boy and pointed towards us.

He looked at us, mustered a smile, and gave a small wave. Instinctively, I waved back. It’d be rude not to.

The parents took the stand, inviting everyone to come up in an orderly fashion to pay their respects.

Some guests stood before the casket in silence. Some couldn’t help but break down in tears. Others placed their hand on the casket for a few seconds. Most of them laid their flowers down.

Sol stood up, straightened his jacket, and looked at me deeply.

“Are you gonna come?”

“Can I not?”

“Okay.” He exhaled. “I’ll put these for you.”

He took the spare bouquet from my hands and strode away, Ren followed close behind. Declining the offer to go, Eli stayed behind too—most likely to accompany me.

When it was Sol’s turn, he gingerly set the bouquets down by the base of the casket. He stood still for a while, before bowing his head slightly, and joining the waiting Ren.

I realized the boy was still sitting with Nora. He hadn’t gone up.

His eyes had glossed over. They were still fixed on the casket, but he was somewhere else.

“Why do you keep looking over there?” Eli asked, leaning past to see. “Oh, it’s Ms Nora and... Haru. Didn’t think he’d come, but it makes sense he’s here”

“Haru is the brother right?”

“No, it’s the sister.” He rolled his eyes.

I see why Ren likes him so much.

After the service, when only a few guests were left, Haru, accompanied by Nora, went up to Iris’s parents.

He closed his eyes and bowed deeply, saying some words I couldn’t hear.

Considering the look he shot us as he left, it seemed Nora had already told him who we were.

As those sharp eyes disappeared through the door, I looked down at my flower.

It was selfish—I wanted it for myself.

It was beautiful. So beautiful.

Getting up to say my goodbyes, I realised I was one of the last. By now, the marigold was starting to lose its colour. Its hue dimming to match its gloomy surroundings.

As I approached the parents, they rushed to meet me.

“We want to thank you again,” the mother said.

“Stop thanking me when I haven’t solved the crime.”

“I’m thanking you on behalf of Iris. She was an amazing girl.”

Eli was about to step forward.

I stopped him, wanting to hear more.

The woman continued, “I kept telling her to be kinder. Nicer. How to speak to people—and this kind of thing still happens…”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Her grades weren’t that stellar, but I’ve told her so many times that safety is the most important. She could’ve just run. Now look at what happened.”

She was right. Iris could’ve just run. The cuts on her arms and legs showed that she tried to fight back… or at least stayed.

But the way her mother spoke about her left me in dismay.

Eli interrupted. “She was trying to make you proud. Right until the end.”

The woman went silent. It was the reality she didn’t want to admit. She tried to keep her composure, but her lips quivered. That nonchalant attitude from earlier—a wall to ignore the truth—had broken.

With a shaky breath, she uttered, “She did. I’m sorry.”

The apology came out so easily. As if she’d been waiting to say it. I knew it wasn’t directed at us.

I was worried the mother would break down on the spot. She wasn’t even listening as we bid our final goodbyes. In her eyes, memories seemed to flash by.

As we walked out the door, I heard her high-heeled footsteps clicking hurriedly. Judging by the sound, she was moving toward the casket. Then I heard wailing.

Before, she could not express her grief. Now that she could, it came out louder than ever.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” I mumbled.

Sol and Ren were waiting outside. The latter amused himself with the koi fish in the funeral home’s pond. They followed him as he circled it, mouthing at the imaginary food he sprinkled into the water.

Sol was asleep upright on an adjacent bench. I didn’t know how anyone could sleep vertically on hard surfaces.

As mesmerised as Ren was by the fish, he still noticed our presence.

He broke into a small jog towards us. “You’re here! What took you so long?”

Ren’s loudness woke Sol up. Groggily, he stood and yawned. “Let’s go back.”

Sol led the pack, eager to crash the bed. Ren stuck next to him, trying to strike up a conversation with the tired man. They’d grown closer. The same couldn’t be said about me and Eli. He walked quietly beside me. It made for a tranquil night, but it made me question how close we were.

Eli kicked a pebble. “My parents weren’t the best.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It came out harsher than I meant.

“The mother earlier… she reminded me of them.”

I nodded slowly, prompting him to continue.

“They always said I should be grateful. A roof over my head, food on the table. Not every child gets that kind of love.”

“Keeping someone alive is not the same as love.”

Eli faltered. “I still have to love them. They’re my family.”

“Then did they love you?”

“They fed me, gave me shelter, and education,” he repeated. “They always say they do... so I think they do.”

“So I think they do.” Eli said it simply, like he’d made peace with the uncertainty long ago.

I kept walking. I was not sure there was anything to say.

“Thank you for opening up to me.”

I meant it.

Eli let out a slow breath. Something in his shoulders seemed to lift.

He slowed his pace, swaying slightly as he walked—like a child who’d finally said what he needed to say.