After the Cold Marriage His Crazy Love (Iris and Julian) novel Chapter 4

4 The Funeral

Julian’s grandparents had been university professors. After retirement, they moved to the countryside, preferring peace over city life.
They were healthy, always traveling and hiking. It didn’t seem real.
Passed, as in… actually gone?
“I’ll be at the gate in twenty minutes. Grab a few outfits for me.”
He had never sounded like this before. If he was taking her back to his hometown, it had to be serious.
“Okay.” Iris hung up and jumped out of bed.
She changed clothes, packed as fast as she could, and then ran into Julian’s room.
No suitcase. Time was tight. Without overthinking, she stuffed his clothes into her own bag.
Fifteen minutes later, she was outside the building’s security gate.
She’d forgotten an umbrella. The drizzle had picked up, and a cold wind whipped through her soaked clothes.
Then the familiar car pulled up. She rushed over. Julian got out and came straight toward her.
“I couldn’t find your bag, so I just—” She started to explain, but he took the suitcase from her hands and tossed it into the trunk.
He shut it and opened the passenger door. “Get in.” She hesitated for a second, then climbed in.
The car smelled expensive. The seats were comfortable, but the A/C was cranked too low. She was shivering.
Her clothes and hair were damp. The cabin was so clean and neat that she didn’t know where he kept tissues.
Julian got in swiftly, buckled up, and turned the key. “Buckle your seatbelt.”
She snapped out of it, quickly fastening hers. Rain dotted the windshield like scattered diamonds. The wipers moved in a slow, steady rhythm. Silence filled the cabin.
She hugged her arms across her chest, rubbing gently. Julian kept his eyes on the road.
Then, without a word, he reached out and pressed a panel in front of her.
A hidden compartment popped open. Inside: tissues, masks, sanitizer.
She blinked at him. It was dark in the car. His profile looked especially cold and unreadable. He didn’t even glance at me. How’d he know I need tissues?
“…Thanks,” she whispered, wiping off the rain from her hair and clothes.
She tucked the used tissues into her pocket, shut the panel, and leaned against the window.
Julian turned up the heat. Warm air slowly filled the cabin.
Bit by bit, she stopped shivering. The drive took four hours. With nothing to say between them, the silence was suffocating.
With a habit of going to bed early, Iris really couldn’t resist the drowsiness and dozed off halfway through. She was nudged awake by Julian’s voice. “We’re here.”
She sat up quickly. Only then did she realize her seat had been reclined—when did that happen?
Julian got out of the car. She unbuckled and followed. It was 3 a.m.
The house blazed with light against the dark night. Soft lights lined the porch, and folding chairs filled the yard. Several locals sat quietly outside. Iris had never attended a funeral on Julian’s side of the family. Afraid of doing something wrong, she instinctively moved closer to him.
At that moment, a slightly heavyset middle-aged woman hurried out. “Julian’s back, and his wife too!”
“Linda,” Julian said in greeting.
Iris followed his lead and nodded politely. “Hi, Linda.”
Linda, their next-door neighbor, met them at the door. Her eyes were red, voice shaky. “Julian, it happened so fast. I’m so sorry. You didn’t get to say goodbye… but at least you’re here now.”
Linda turned to Iris and gave her a gentle, reassuring touch on the arm. “Just stay with Julian when you go in,” she said softly. “Take your time. Be there together.”
“Grandpa…” Iris’s throat tightened, her voice catching.
In the two years since marrying into the Everhart family, only his grandparents had truly cared for her. They were warm, attentive, and kind.
Even though she only visited during holidays, she genuinely loved them.
“He passed suddenly,” Linda said through tears. “He was watching the evening news in the living room, closed his eyes for a moment, and never woke up.”
Iris felt a heavy weight settle in her chest.
Inside the house, floral arrangements lined the walls. The open casket stood quietly at the center of the room.
Julian’s grandfather lay inside, dressed with care, his hands folded over his chest. No one moved closer. The family had already said their goodbyes.
Candles flickered nearby, casting soft shadows on the walls. A minister sat off to the side, murmuring soft prayers.
Following Linda’s lead, Iris stepped beside Julian. They bowed their heads in silent tribute.
Everything had been done. The only thing left was the waiting.
Linda gestured toward a few chairs by the wall. “You two can sit for a bit,” she said gently. “They’re holding off until the rest of the family gets here.”
“Where’s Grandma?” Iris asked, glancing around.
Linda let out a sigh. “She’s at the hospital. The doctor said it was too much for her today.”
Iris fought back tears. They’d loved each other for a lifetime. And now, they couldn’t even say goodbye together. That kind of loss felt especially cruel.
She sat next to Julian, an empty chair between them.
The air smelled of flowers and melted wax. The minister’s low voice blended with the occasional murmur from outside.
Grief hung heavy in the room. Iris glanced at Julian.
He leaned back in his chair, legs slightly apart, fingers laced in front of him. His shoulders tensed with grief, his gaze fixed on the casket. His eyes were red, rimmed with grief.
They sat there, wordless. There was nothing to say.
Volunteers flitted silently about the room through the night, tending to the candles and straightening the flowers.
By morning, neighbors and friends had begun to arrive—some with quiet words, others just with presence.
Iris forced herself to eat something small. Julian didn’t touch a bite. It wasn’t until late afternoon that the rest of the family finally arrived.
His cousin Jenny, phone in hand, was livestreaming parts of the funeral—whispering, wide-eyed, too caught up in the moment. Raised in the city, she didn’t seem to understand the weight of it all. The locals said nothing, but their silence spoke volumes. When her stream was finally shut down, she gave it up.