Father said: «You are no longer our daughter.» They took everything. 3 years later… They declared me dead. I walked into my funeral—I smiled and said…

They dressed me in lies. Buried me in silence. Pretended I never existed.

But now? Now I had a stage. Let them grieve. Let them cry.

Let them perform. And when the curtain lifts, let’s… give them a funeral to remember. St. Albans had never looked so full.

Cars lined the street like a parade of grief. The heavy doors of the church stood open just long enough to let in mourners dressed in black. Weeping.

Whispering. Hugging each other like tragedy had touched. Then personally, I watched from across the street.

Black coat. Sunglasses. Still.

Invisible. It was surreal. Like watching a play about a character who looked like me.

Sounded like me. But wasn’t me at all. Inside, the performance had begun.

The organ played something slow and tragic. Candles flickered beneath my photo. The same one they used on the fake obituary.

I remembered the day it was taken. I was smiling for real. Back then, my father stood at the pulpit.

Face solemn. Voice just loud enough to carry. She was troubled.

But we loved her. She lost her way. And though we couldn’t reach her, we never stopped praying she’d come back to us.

My mother sat in the front row, dabbing tears with lace-trimmed tissues like she’d practiced for weeks. Her sobs were delicate. Perfect.

And Elena. She stood next, pearls clutched like they were keeping her heart from falling apart. My sister, Maya, was complicated.

But she was mine. I wish I could have said goodbye. A lie wrapped in a tear, tied with a bow.

I stepped closer to the doors, just enough to hear it. The priest raised his hand solemnly. May she rest in peace.

I exhaled slowly. Not yet. The show was still going.

But the main character hadn’t arrived. Let us now stand for a moment of silence. The priest’s voice echoed through the church like a final curtain call.

Everyone rose to their feet. Heads bowed, eyes closed, hands folded politely over hearts, and in that breathless pause, I pushed open the doors. The sound was sharp, deliberate…