The retired judge, standing like an immovable pillar, nodded in agreement. “Your mother was a wise woman. She trusted her decision, and we trust her judgment.”

Gavin’s face twisted with a mix of resentment and shame. He glanced at the gravestone, our mother’s name etched into the marble, and then at the gathering of women who had been like a second family to him. For a second, his eyes softened, as if he was truly seeing them for the first time, beyond his haze of anger. But the moment was fleeting.