The little girl shook her head and, with wide eyes, looked again at the coffin.

— Daddy said it’s not cold… and that we have to go home. He said there’s light there… and that he loves us.

A woman in the back dropped a small icon from her hands, and a man crossed himself, whispering prayers with trembling lips. The priest stepped forward, but remained silent, his eyes fixed on the child.

Ana was frozen. She wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t hallucinating. The girl spoke clearly, with a conviction that far surpassed her age. Sofia’s eyes were no longer filled with tears, but shone with a light no one could explain.

— He said he’s behind me… and he’s holding my hand, — Sofia added softly, like a whisper in the silence of the mute church.

Ana turned quickly. No one. Just the heavy air and the candlelight shadows dancing on the walls. But then… she felt it. A gentle, warm touch on her left shoulder. A familiar sensation, impossible to mistake, that melted her soul.

No one could understand. But she knew.

She brought her hand to her shoulder, where she had felt the touch, and burst into tears. But it was no longer the cry of grief. It was a cry of release. Of comfort. Of peace.

The people around looked on in fear, in wonder, in awe. Some wiped their eyes, others fell to their knees. The priest began his prayer again, but this time, it was gentler, more serene.

Ana pressed her cheek against Sofia’s hair and closed her eyes. For the first time in days, a faint but genuine smile bloomed on her lips.

— Daddy is gone… but he’s here. Always. Don’t you see? — Sofia whispered sleepily, resting her little head against her mother’s chest.

And yes, maybe Rareș was no longer there.
But he was never truly lost.
And sometimes, even if we can’t see them…
those we love never really leave us.