Chapter 2

Mom's expression softened a bit as she pulled a bead from her bag.

" A couple days ago I went to the chapel and got this blessed rosary bead for your father. The priest said if I put it in the urn, it would help him have a better time in heaven "

Mom's superstition made me want to laugh and cry at the same time, and my tense mood relaxed slightly.

Just then, a staff member came to get us.

"Ms. Thompson, we've found your father's ashes."

Mom and I exchanged glances and immediately got up to return to the plot.

The manager handed me Dad's urn with an apologetic expression.

"Ms. Thompson, you were right—it was mixed up. It was mistakenly placed in the plot next to yours. Now that we've found it, please confirm it's correct and we'll put it back right away."

I took the urn and glanced at it.

The photo on top was indeed my father.

Seeing Dad's portrait again, I couldn't help but tear up.

Mom quietly wiped away tears beside me.

"If everything's correct, I'll put it back now. The urn shouldn't be exposed to sunlight—it's bad luck."

I quickly handed the urn back to the manager.

"It's fine. Go ahead and put it back."

"Wait."

Mom suddenly spoke up, pulling the bead from her bag.

"Let me put this inside first."

Before the manager could respond, Mom opened the lid of the urn, preparing to place the bead inside.

But the moment she opened the lid, her expression darkened.

"You're saying these are my husband's ashes?"

"Yes, isn't that Mr. Thompson's photo on the urn?"

Mom put the bead back in her bag and stepped backward.

"These aren't my husband's ashes at all! When he was cremated, I placed our wedding rings in his urn. There's nothing like that in here! Where did you hide my husband's ashes?"

I stepped forward and looked into the urn.

There were indeed no rings inside!

"Where are my father's ashes? What kind of cemetery is this? Did you lose my father's ashes and just randomly grab someone else's to cover it up?"

The manager's face had already gone pale when he heard Mom's words.

Now he stammered, unable to get a word out.

Other people who'd come to visit their loved ones noticed the commotion and gathered around us.

"Your cemetery can't even protect the deceased's ashes properly? How can we trust leaving our loved ones here?"

"What if something happened to our relatives' ashes too? I demand to inspect mine!"

"Exactly! You need to give us an explanation. Paying respects to a complete stranger—that's disgusting!"

Seeing him remain silent, I'd had enough.

I pulled out my phone.

"Since you can't give me a reasonable explanation, you can explain it to the police instead!"

I was about to call the police.

Seeing me reach for my phone, the manager finally broke his silence and pressed down on my hand.

"Don't call the police. Let's talk this through."

"Talk it through?"

I glared at him.

"My father's ashes are still missing and you won't explain what happened. What is there to talk about?"

Mom joined in loudly.

"Exactly! You're running a shady cemetery! My husband has been buried here for twelve years—who knows when you switched him out for someone else! We have to call the police!"

The crowd's emotions were equally heated.

"That's right! Call the police! You have to call the police!"

Under the enormous pressure, the manager finally cracked.

He raised his hand and shouted.

"Your loved ones' ashes are all fine!"

Then he turned to look at me, forcing out a sentence with difficulty.

"Your father's ashes aren't missing because we lost them. Someone else claimed them!"