The sky hung heavy with sorrow as mourners gathered around the freshly dug grave, a somber testament to the untimely death of Ivan Abel. The air was thick with the scent of earth and lilies, mingling with the soft murmur of prayers and whispers. Abel's family stood at the forefront, an unsettling tableau of silence.

Ivan's mother, a stoic figure draped in black, stared vacantly ahead, her eyes dry and devoid of tears. His father, a pillar of stern resolve, stood rigidly beside her, his face etched with lines of grief that he refused to show.