Briony stared at Carney and Gwendolyn White, her nose stinging as emotion welled up inside her.


    Carney and Gwendolyn approached, their faces grave with concern.


    "You really do treat your teachers like outsiders," Carney said, his tone tinged with gentle reproach. "Bryn, you''ve truly let me down."


    Briony pressed her lips together, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. "I''m sorry, sir, I-"


    Before she could finish, Gwendolyn White stepped forward and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Oh, sweetheart, don''t mind your teacher. He''s just trying to scare you, that''s all. For thest five years, he''s talked about you every single day. You''re his brightest student. Seeing you struggle like this-it breaks his heart. He didn''t mean what he said."


    Wrapped in Gwendolyn''s motherly arms, Briony suddenly felt every bottled-up emotion from the past dayse crashing down.


    "Mrs. Winslow, my mom... she''s gone..."


    Gwendolyn gently stroked her back, her own eyes growing red. "Don''t be afraid, dear. You still have us. We never had children of our own, and if you''re willing, we''d love nothing more than to be your family."


    Briony buried her face in Gwendolyn''s shoulder and wept, letting the grief finally pour out.


    Carney and James stood nearby, watching the scene in silence, their brows furrowed with worry.


    With Carney, Gwendolyn, and James by her side, the funeral suddenly felt a little less lonely, a little less bleak.


    After the burial at the cemetery, Briony still needed to go to Brightspring Hill to hold a memorial for her mother.


    Her mom had once told her that Brightspring Hill was a sacred ce. Briony had remembered those words.


    Everyone apanied her up the hill, watching as she knelt before the altar, hands sped together in a silent, heartfelt prayer.


    But in truth, they all understood: these rituals were never really for the departed, but for those left behind, to help them let go.


    As the priest recited the prayers, a white butterfly drifted in from outside the chapel,nding gently on Briony''s folded hands.


    Sensing its presence, Briony slowly opened her eyes.


    The butterfly lingered on her fingertips for a few seconds. As her tears trickled down, it fluttered its wings and took flight, dancing gracefully in the air.


    It was only early January, and the city was still nketed in snow. No one knew where the butterfly hade from. It circled Briony a few times before disappearing into the cold, gray sky.


    Briony rose and followed after it, and in that moment, her mother''s words echoed in her mind-


    "Bryn, don''t cry. Don''t be sad. And don''t stubbornly try to find me..."


    She stopped, watching as the butterfly slowly drifted away.


    Briony wiped the tears from her cheeks.


    Behind her, the priest closed the prayer book.


    The farewell, atst, hade to an end.


    Carney and Gwendolyn White had official duties to return to and couldn''t stay in Northborough for long.


    On the third day, the couple set off together back to Silveridge.


    The porcin Christ figurine Briony restoredst time had already proven her


    talent, and now the Antiquarian Society had sent her a formal invitation.


    A few newly unearthed artifacts still needed restoration, so James would remain in Northborough to assist Briony with the uing work.


    Before leaving, Carney asked if Briony was open to traveling for an assignment.


    He said, "The excavation team''s found an ancient site out west. The terrain''s rough, and it''ll be hard work, but if you can join this project, it''ll be a huge opportunity for you."


    Briony asked when it would begin.


    Carney replied, "Probably early March."


    Briony thought to herself, That gives me two months. Just enough time to see through my recovery...