The air crackled with tension. Miguel, always the troublemaker when it came to his egotistical brother, decided it was time to stir the pot. "Hey Binaca, weren't you mentioning that you had to leave early tonight? Something about an appointment in the morning?" His voice was dripping with feigned innocence, but his eyes gleamed with mischief.

Binaca caught on instantly, her acting skills honed over years of dealing with her brother. "Yes, thank you for reminding me, Miguel. I completely forgot. We really should get going." Her eyes darted to Malachi, gauging his reaction before she moved to the driver's side of the car.

Malachi, already reaching for the passenger door, was halted by Darnell's words. "Oh, and Malachi, say hello to your mom for me," Darnell said, his tone seemingly casual, yet layered with unspoken menace.

Malachi froze, hand hovering above the door handle. His eyes flashed, iridescent blue with white pupils, illuminating briefly like celestial orbs. *This guy,* he thought, a simmering anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

Miguel, standing by the back door, noticed the transformation. His protective instincts flared. He glared first at Malachi and then directed a sharper, more pointed stare at Darnell.

Suddenly, a man dressed in an immaculate white security uniform approached. His presence was calm yet authoritative. He looked at Darnell, giving a slight nod. Understanding the unspoken message, Darnell took his leave, his expression unreadable.

The security officer turned to Malachi. "Your mother wants to see you," he said, his voice respectful but firm.

Miguel's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, she's here?" he interjected, his voice tinged with both shock and excitement.

The security officer nodded. "Yes, she just flew in. She's at your father's tombstone."

Without another word, Miguel took off running, his footsteps echoing in the night. Malachi paused, looking at the security officer. "Appreciate it, man," he said, his voice steady.

The officer, maintaining professional poise, nodded. "I'm sorry we couldn't save your father," he said, his voice softening with genuine regret.

Malachi held up a hand, a gesture of acceptance. "It's cool, man," he replied. "You couldn't have known." He then glanced at Binaca in the car. He extended a reassuring hand, and she took it gently.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, gonna talk to Mom. You staying or leaving?"

"I'll wait for you," she replied with a comforting smile.

"Alrighty, be right back," he said, letting go of her hand and heading toward the tombstone. Miguel was already there, nervously shifting his feet in the grass. Malachi joined him, and they both looked at their mother.

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She stood gracefully in a flowing white dress, her greyish dreads glinting under the moonlight, her dark skin shimmering. Her presence was both commanding and serene.

Touching the tombstone, Malachi felt a chill. He could almost hear his father's voice, a whisper carried on the wind. "Goodbye, my love. You were my rock, my guiding star. Rest now; we will carry on your legacy."

Their mother's voice, strong and clear, broke through the silence. Her tears glimmered, but her voice remained steady. "Our sons are here, strong and brave. They will make you proud. I will honor you always."

Malachi placed a comforting hand on Miguel's shoulder.

Miguel gave Malachi a nod, then their mother turned. Her eyes lit up with excitement when she saw them. They walked to her, each stepping to one of her sides. She wrapped her arms around them, pulling them close.

"My beautiful baby boys," she said, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

They both smiled. Miguel nestled a little closer, his gaze tender and full of love.

"Then how are you two?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Miguel, ever the smooth talker, grinned and replied, "We're good, Ma. How was the flight?"

"Exhausting," she admitted, a chuckle escaping her lips. "But worth it." She squeezed their shoulders, the warmth of her touch radiating through their clothes. "So, what have you two been up to?"

Malachi, ever the dutiful son, answered first. "I've been looking at schools, Ma. I want to be a doctor."

Miguel, ever the carefree spirit, shrugged. "Nothing much, just chilling." He knew that wasn't entirely true, but he didn't want to worry her with the details.

"Nothing?" she echoed, a hint of amusement in her voice. Malachi couldn't help but think that if he had said that, she would have been at his neck.

"Speaking of nothing," she continued, her tone softening. "Have you heard the rumors surrounding your father's death?"

Miguel sighed. "Unfortunately, yeah. But let's forget about that." He glanced at Malachi. "He did the eulogy, Ma."

Her eyes widened, and a soft smile spread across her face. "Malachi, you did?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little sheepish.

"Peter wanted me to read one he wrote .

It was crazy."

"Crazy?" Miguel echoed. "

Their mother sighed, shaking her head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Speaking of Peter," she said, her voice light.

"Your father never liked him."

Their laughter echoed through the room, a sound that filled the space where their father had once stood.

"We know, Ma," they said in unison.

Miguel then added, "Hey, Pa wants to see us tomorrow."

Their mother looked startled.

Malachi noticed and started to ask why, but she cut him off. "Just be careful, okay?"

Malachi's eyebrows shot up.

Why that reaction?"

"Why did he have to die?" Miguel finally asked, his voice cracking.

His mother's expression softened, a flicker of sadness passing over her face.

She gently pulled him into a hug, his head resting against her shoulder. "Sometimes, darling," she whispered, "the most beautiful souls leave this world so we can hold them closer in our hearts."

Malachi watched them, a quiet understanding settling over him.

He walked towards his father's tombstone, the words etched in stone a constant reminder of his loss.

He read them aloud, a whisper barely audible above the rustle of leaves: "Death is mankind's greatest gift from God, the ultimate liberation from the chains of mortality."

His mother came up behind him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

She gazed at the tombstone, a hint of steel in her eyes.

"Sleep in peace, Dad," Malachi whispered, his voice heavy with grief, yet strangely peaceful.