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277 THE ACCUSATIONS

The stuffy funeral home's air was heavy with the scent of lilies and unspoken grief. Sunlight slanted weakly through stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors on the mourners below. Ethan stood stiffly beside the polished mahogany casket, his jaw clenched tight. Tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Madison, his wife, dressed in a black flowing gown and black scarf, let out a loud cry as she reached out a tentative hand towards his arm, her expression etched with concern. He flinched away, his voice a low growl. "Don't touch me." Madison's hand hovered in mid-air, then slowly withdrew. Hurt flickered across her face, momentarily eclipsed by confusion. "Ethan, what's wrong?" "She died because she took the bullet for me." He cried out, his voice thick with barely contained anger. "Oh, why, Mom? Why did you die for me?" Ethan lamented loudly. Madison pitifully shook her head and softly said, "Ethan, it's not your fault. You were trying t

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