Bab 57: 'Grief'

"Summer's dead, Tristan. She's gone."

Tristan froze. His heart stopped for a moment, he couldn't believe what he just heard. Wait, did he really hear it correctly? He just misheard it, right? Right?

Tristan bitterly chuckled. "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to but, I'm not into it."

Whifler didn't respond, instead, he lowered his gaze and tears streamed down his cheeks. Tanya and Trish were also whimpering.

Tristan wanted to ignore what Whifler told him but, why did it sting in his heart? With this tightening and overwhelming heaviness, he couldn't keep up.

"Y-You're just joking. I know. Stop it. J-Just tell me where she is." Tristan clenched his fist. His sweat was too cold that he even got goosebumps. He was unwilling to believe any of his words. No. He won't.

He waited for Whifler to take back what he said and tell him it wasn't true, all of them. But, Trish just reached out for his hand and held it tightly.

She wasn't speaking. Her sobs were echoing into his ears and he felt the trembling of her hand. No words of denial nor confirmation came out of her mouth, yet, her sympathy had reached Tristan.

At that moment, Tristan fell silent. His head was lowered and gripped Trish's hand. They didn't have to tell him, their actions proved it. No matter how much he refused to accept the truth, he couldn't deny it.

Summer was dead. Summer was gone. Summer... Summer...

The Summer who never lost energy. The Summer, who filled his heart with great happiness. Summer, who made him content. Summer, who made him feel loved. Cared...

Summer, who never stopped smiling. Summer, who had eyes full of sincerity. Summer, who was always laughing, always running. Summer, who had that pitchy sound whenever she was calling his sister's name. That giggly tone whenever they were talking.

Her enthusiastic vibe every time they spent time together. Her pouts every time she was teased. That adorable rolling of her eyes whenever she was pissed off or annoyed.

That sweet comforting voice whispering to him. Those warm arms, wrapped around him every time he was in distress or loneliness. Those soft hands held him whenever he was afraid. That Summer, who brightened his dark life. His only light... His Summer who would never leave his side. Now, disappeared from his life.

Tristan couldn't shed a single tear. He was too overwhelmed and preoccupied. His body, his breathing. He couldn't feel himself.

He gradually did not hear all their sobbing and whimpering. Sounds in his surroundings were fading, he heard nothing but, the panging of his racing heart—the rampage beating of his broken heart.

Tristan was in so much pain. It was too agonizing that he couldn't even react properly. Everything was spinning, he felt dizzy.

What should he do? He didn't know. He wasn't capable of processing anything yet.

Right now. He seemed trapped in the darkest of the darkness. No one was around him. No light, no air. It was too suffocating.

Summer... Where was she? No. She should not leave him. Begging for an impossible, Tristan was hoping everything was just a nightmare. He wanted to wake up. He was wishing this was unreal.

'No. Please. Let her live', Tristan stood up and blankly headed to his room.

'She is alive... She is alive... She is alive'

Tristan was filled with those thoughts. He wasn't thinking of anything. Summer occupied his mind. Her smile. Her eyes. Her face. Her voice. Her hands. Everything about her was vivid and repeatedly playing in his memory.

Tristan held his chest, clasping the locket he was wearing. 'Summer'

He immediately dialed Summer's number. 'Summer. Please. Please... Tell me all this is not true. Please, pick up', he thought.

The ring was done, but his call wasn't answered.

'She might just be busy. Right. She is just busy. Yeah. She is... She is.', Tristan thought while dumbly staring at his phone's screen as he dialed Summer's number one more time.

Still, his call was not answered. He lost hope. He felt weak. No matter how hard he tried, reality hit him.

He jolted as he heard his phone ring and instantly answered it without looking who it was. "Summer!"

[I-It's Amber, Trish.] As soon as he heard her soft and weak voice, Tristan felt disappointed.

"S-Sorry."

[I understand. D-Did you know?]

Tristan's gaze lowered. "I do."

Amber was silent for a moment.

[I... I actually called to tell you that her cremation was done. A-And. Her remains were already here. I am at her place. I-I want you to see her first.]

Amber told with a shaky voice.

Tristan didn't think twice and went out of his room, without changing his pajamas, he directly got into his car and drove away. (He was heading to Summer's other address, the one she publicized—inhabited by Melissa.)

Standing outside her doorstep, Tristan was hesitant. He was too afraid to enter. He wasn't ready yet. Could he handle it?

Gasping for air, Amber opened the door, stunned as she saw him outside. Her eyes were swollen, staring straight at him.

"W-Why are you standing there? Come in." Amber stepped aside to give way to Tristan inside.

Tristan clenched his fist. His heart was racing. Its beating was deafening—seemed like it will come out in no time.

He took a step towards the living room, still, his head was lowered. His brain was fogged up. He didn't know what to think anymore. His mixed emotions were overpowering.

"Trish," Amber softly called, holding a crystal white granite urn. She was preventing her tears to fall while hugging the urn.

Tristan looked at the urn as Amber slowly placed it on the center table. His heart became a rampage. 'No... This can't be.'

Amber chose the publicized address of Summer to keep Summer's ash there since she didn't want to change anything to her house where she actually died.

Amber wanted to secure the urn herself but, before she will do that, she wanted Summer to bid her last goodbye to the person she likes.

"I... I'll give you time to be alone with her. I'll be just outside." Amber immediately left.

Tristan who was still sinking everything in, drooped to the floor. The urn. The urn was too blinding. He couldn't bring himself to touch it.

Tristan was just blankly staring at the urn. He was barely breathing, his muscles stiffened.

"Summer... Is that you? Is that really you?"

Tristan gradually managed to move. He leaned to the table and reached for the urn.

The moment his fingertips touched it, a single tear from his left eye fell—unbearable heartache swallowed him. The truth was on his hand. He could touch it. It was real. It was awfully tormenting.

Tristan couldn't handle the unexplainable throbbing of his chest so, he ran outside, headed to his car, and drove away at high speed.

Amber just looked at his leaving car until it vanished. She took a weak sigh and then headed inside.

She stared at the urn. "Summer."

With great displeasure and agony, Amber hugged the urn so tight and shed tears.

"Hugged me back just like you used to, Summer. Please... My dear, sister. Hugged me. Hugged me. It's too painful. I can't handle it, Summer. I can't."

Her sobs echoed, wetting the urn with her tears.

'Summer. You're so unfair.'