Odd that Zahir Brand would be working alone in life, and shrouded by admirers now that he is dead. Or maybe it was not strange at all. Sophia married a mixed bag of contradictions, and she would not have asked for less.

She walks past the flowers and the stone angels that appear sadder than the attendants. She cannot walk past the Lacrimosa. She cannot walk past what happened last week.

The ceremony lasts for several hours. Sophia did not even notice that she had been crying until one of the clergymen had handed her a handkerchief. The tears fall, but she doesn't really cry. There's not enough weight inside of her for that. There is neither anger nor distress. She's just empty, like she'll never know hope again. Sophia knows that she doesn't have any entitlement to this feeling. He did keep her promise to her, only to demand none in return. He didn't even demand the truth. One day she will learn to be bitter about it, but not today.

Finally, it is appropriate to approach the body. The undertakers were immensely through with the cosmetic restorations - the deceased himself would not have accepted less. He looks like -

("Just five more minutes, Sophia - I know you're not going to let it be twenty")

Sophia covers her face with her hands. Her grief comes like a sudden sneeze. Sophia cries like a handful of millionaires aren't there. She cries like it's really her place to mourn a husband who should never have been hers.
deads  ft. afia
er. i forgot to mention it but assume that fantine + heron are here rip