My Daughter’s Funeral, My Last Goodbye

Brandon's POV

“Brandon, my leg…” Sabrina’s voice was shaky, almost falling apart.

The second I saw her, everything else around me blurred out. It was like the world narrowed in on just her.

There was no dust, no wreckage, no chaos. Just Sabrina.

“Sabrina! What the hell are you doing here?!”

A surge of panic—followed immediately by guilt—hit me hard. She looked so damn fragile, like she’d shatter if I let go.

I didn’t think. I just scooped her up into my arms, held her tight, and walked off.

...

Two hours later, we were at the hospital. They’d run every test, scanned every inch of her, and checked all her vitals.

Sabrina was fine. Thank God.

I stayed close, watching as the nurses worked, making sure she was comfortable. Once I knew she was stable and once the tight knot in my chest started to loosen, I could feel my mind finally snap back into focus.

I remembered Camilla.

I’d left her behind.

Without wasting another second, I got in the car and headed straight to the abandoned mine site.

The place was still a disaster. Rescue teams were everywhere, working through the rubble. Heavy machinery hummed in the background, and the entire area looked like it had been ravaged by a bomb.

I moved from person to person, asking the same questions again and again.

“Have you seen a woman named Camila Doyle?”

“Anyone find a woman?”

But no one had any answers. No one had seen her.

I remembered seeing Camilla earlier, before Sabrina started calling out to me. She had looked fine, unharmed. If she’d gotten out, she must’ve headed home. The rescuers would’ve told me if they’d seen her.

With that thought in mind, I turned around and headed back to the hospital, where Sabrina was waiting for me.

...

Camilla’s POV

The VIP suite by the private helipad still smelled like jet fuel and some overpriced cologne that clung to the furniture like a memory you couldn’t scrub out.

I had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around my damp hair, steam still clinging to the mirrors, when my phone lit up.

Brandon.

I didn’t pick up.

A few seconds later, a message came through:

[Don’t throw a tantrum. No one’s going to keep indulging you. By the way, Sabrina wants some butterfly pastries. Bake them in the morning and bring them to the airport by 4 PM.]

I just stared at the screen.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t sigh.

Didn’t feel a thing.

I hit 'block' without even thinking twice.

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Brandon Doyle, from this day on, you no longer exist.

…

Brandon’s POV

The airport was crowded with waiting passengers. We stood near the departure gate, the cherry blossom trip hanging between us like some half-kept promise I never really meant to make.

Sabrina shifted closer, eyes wide, voice soft. “Brandon, do you not want to go see the cherry blossoms with me anymore?”

I didn’t answer right away. After the incident, I knew Sabrina needed some reassurance.

So I squeezed her hand gently, and said, “Of course I do, Sabrina. We’re here, aren’t we? Just waiting to board.”

But she wasn’t letting it go.

“You’ve been looking around like you’re expecting someone else to show up,” she said, lips pressed into a pout.

I didn’t even think. I just fired back, “If you don’t want to go, you can fly over without me.”

Sabrina blinked, surprised. She expected my certainty that I would always be there for her, no matter what.

Pressing my lips together, I kept quiet for a beat and then said flatly, “Alright. You go ahead. I’ll wrap things up at the office and meet you there.”

Her eyes widened. She didn’t see that coming.

And the truth?

Nothing was waiting for me at work. No deal. No crisis. Nothing urgent.

I didn't know why, but I didn't feel like going on vacation.

'Is it because Camilla hadn’t come home?' I thought.

Hell, no. That wasn’t it.

Camilla had always been a substitute. A placeholder. She looked just enough like Sabrina to make things convenient. I never loved her. Never told her I did.

'So why the hell does something feel… off?' I didn’t have an answer.

Seeing Sabrina's flabbergasted reaction, I kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be there soon. I just need to finish some work. You and the baby go enjoy the blossoms. I’ll catch up.”

After that, she boarded, while I stayed.

I simply stood at the gate, gazing into the emptiness, hands in my pockets as if I were waiting for a train that wasn’t coming. Eventually, I pulled out my phone and called the house.

“Is Camilla still asleep?” I asked the housekeeper.

There was a pause before she said, hesitantly, “Mr. Doyle… Miss Camilla didn’t come home last night.”

I froze.

Then I let out a bitter laugh. “Perfect. If she doesn’t want to come back, then wipe her fingerprints from the door system. All of them. And let the staff know—she doesn’t set foot in the house again without my say-so. Ever.”

I hung up before she could answer and went straight to the office, diving straight into paperwork.

...

Five days had passed since the incident. Still, there was no word. No trace of Camilla.

It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.

I buried myself in the office, letting work consume me, hoping it would distract me from the gnawing feeling inside. It was already late, and I’d been grinding through a project for the whole day.

With that, I decided to head back home.

To my bed. To sleep from my exhaustion.

But when I opened the door to the bedroom, I stopped.

Someone was there.

At first, I only saw the curve of her body under the blanket. Her loose hair spilling over the pillow. Everything in me tensed up.

I walked straight over and grabbed her wrist.

“So much for your whole ‘I’m too good for you’ speech,” I snapped. “What, five days alone was enough to change your mind?”

She stirred and turned her face.

I went cold. “Sabrina…? What the hell are you doing here?”

She looked up at me, eyes a little red but smiling like this was all normal. “I was bored. Missed you. Thought I’d come back early and surprise you.”

Then she tilted her head, studied me. “Brandon… did you think I was Camilla just now?”

"Of course not!" I clenched my jaw and continued, “I had too much to drink tonight. That’s all it was.”

I lied.

I hadn’t had a single drop.

Still, I smiled, softening my tone. I sat beside her until the shivers in her shoulders eased and her breathing evened out. Once she was asleep, I stood, loosened my tie, and walked into the bathroom.

I flipped on the light, leaned over the sink, and stared into the mirror.

Hands braced. Jaw tight.