She looked down at the coffin, and then at the mourners around; the friends, family, neighbours who had all come to console her in her grief.
She looked at them as if through a veil, from somewhere far, far away. She could barely take it in.
He lay in the coffin, still and dead, helpless, unable to raise a hand to her or whip her with his belt.
As she looked down at him, she broke into hysterical tears. And no one around realised they were tears of joy and freedom.
This piece is written in response to the https://thevoidthoughts.com/2025/03/24/fiction-monday-244/ inspired by the word prompt – Free hosted by Vinitha Dileep
