The jet was a blur of silence. Jade sat beside Cat, her hand never leaving Cat's, a steady anchor amid the whirlwind of emotions. They hadn't spoken much during the flight, the weight of what was happening too heavy for words. Cat had curled up into her seat, her eyes fixed on the window, though she wasn't really looking at anything. Her mind was elsewhere, somewhere far off, deep in a place Jade couldn't reach.
When the plane finally touched down in Idaho, Jade's chest tightened as they made their way toward the car waiting to take them to Cat's family's home. It was a strange feeling—one she hadn't expected. She had no idea what to expect, really. Cat hadn't talked much about her family in recent years, ever, always keeping things about them secret. There was only the occasional update about her brother, the distant moments when Cat had mentioned their parents, but nothing had prepared her for the somber reality they were now heading toward.
The drive was long, but neither of them spoke much, the silence between them stretching until it became a constant presence in the air. Jade's mind was racing, her heart heavy with a thousand questions, none of which she knew how to ask. She felt like a stranger in this space, a visitor in a world Cat had been disconnected from for so long.
When they arrived at the house, the moment they stepped inside, the tension hit Jade like a physical wave. Cassandra and Leo were waiting for them, and the second Cat stepped through the door, they broke down in tears. The scene felt surreal—both parents clinging to their daughter as their emotions erupted. It was as if Cat's arrival had opened up a floodgate that couldn't be closed. They hadn't prepared for this moment. They hadn't prepared for the pain of facing their son's death.
Cat collapsed into her mother's arms, her sobs echoing through the large, quiet house. The sound of her grief was so raw, so desperate, that Jade felt it like a physical blow. She stood back, unsure of what to do, as her own tears welled up, her heart aching for Cat in a way she hadn't thought possible. This wasn't just the loss of a brother—it was the loss of a piece of her, the years of unresolved guilt and sorrow now surfacing all at once.
Through the muffled sobs, Cassandra managed to speak. "He was doing so much better, Cat. He... he was really getting better. And then, out of nowhere, he just... he just lost it all." Her voice cracked as she held Cat tighter, her fingers trembling as she stroked her daughter's hair. "We thought we had more time. We thought—"
Leo's voice was thick with grief, his eyes glassy. "We don't know if it was an accident or not, but he... it... it wasn't supposed to be this way."
Jade stood frozen at the door, her mind reeling. She hadn't seen Cat's parents in this state before, and the sight left her breathless. The shock of it all, the weight of everything crashing down on them, left no room for anyone to speak, to make sense of it. How could you make sense of something like this?
Cat's sobs were muffled against her mother's shoulder, and it felt like the entire house was suffocating under the weight of their collective grief. Jade's heart hurt for Cat in a way that she hadn't known was possible. She had always known Cat was strong, resilient in her own way, but this? This was something no one could prepare for.
As the reality of the situation sank in, Jade could feel the weight of everything Cat had gone through, everything she had hidden behind her tough exterior. This was the final straw, the breaking point, and Jade couldn't help but feel like there was no end in sight. It was as if every time Cat was handed something good, something to look forward to, the world turned on her and ripped it away. First, her career, the pressures of fame, the drug use, the breakup with Austin, and now this. A brother she hadn't seen in years, a part of her past that she had struggled to reconnect with, now gone forever.
The days that followed were a blur of numbness and mechanical movements. Cat's parents were overwhelmed, barely holding it together, yet trying to do what was needed in a situation so unfathomable. They were hardly able to focus on the logistics of the funeral. With most of Cat's extended family living in Italy or being too far removed to come, the small, quiet house felt emptier than ever.
As they went through the motions of preparing for the funeral, Jade stayed close, not knowing what else to do but to remain at Cat's side. She helped with the few details that had to be sorted, though they were mostly practical and devoid of any real personal meaning. There was relatively little to organise. Matteo hadn't left behind anything of significance—no major possessions, no friends who would step forward to speak on his behalf. It was like he had never truly existed outside the confines of his illness. His life, consumed by his struggles, had left him with nothing of the world to hold onto.
For Cat, it was as if her entire childhood had been reduced to ashes. She had not only lost her brother, but she had lost any hope of ever knowing him in the way she once had. She hadn't even had the chance to try and repair the relationship before it was all taken away. And now, in his death, she was forced to confront everything she had avoided.
Jade watched as Cat's hands trembled when she rifled through a small box of Matteo's belongings. There were only a few things: a tattered notebook, some childhood drawings Cat didn't even recognise, some puzzles, and an old photo album. The photo album was the one thing that seemed to hold some weight for Cat. She hesitated before opening it, but when she did, her breath caught in her throat.
There, among the photographs, was a picture of her, Matteo, and their parents. It was a simple shot taken years ago when they were all together—before the distance had started to grow, before things had begun to unravel. Cat had a bold teethy smile on her face, Matteo holding her up proudly. He probably about 10 there, and her much younger still.
Cat's eyes blurred with tears as she traced the photo with her finger, her head resting against Jade's shoulder as she let the tears fall. The grief was so deep, so heavy that Jade could feel it with every part of her being. But in this moment, Jade knew the most important thing she could offer was simply being there—being present, without trying to fix anything.
Cat's world had been shattered in so many ways, and there was no magic fix. There was only time, and the love of those who remained.
The day of the funeral arrived with a heavy weight that neither of them could shake off. The atmosphere in the small house in Idaho was thick with grief, and the air seemed to hum with an unspoken sadness that clung to every surface. Cat and her parents had spent the morning quietly preparing, and though there was a sense of finality in the air, it still felt surreal. Cat's mind kept replaying images of Matteo—how he had struggled with his mental health, how he had fought against it for so long, and how, in the end, he had lost the battle.
Cat and Jade had dressed for the occasion in black. Cat had gone into the small town's local shop that morning to find something suitable to wear for the ceremony. There hadn't been much selection, but she had found a simple black dress that fit her well enough, though it felt too plain for such an occasion. It was a quiet contrast to the bright, colorful outfits she often wore on stage. Now, as she stood in front of the mirror, she felt the starkness of it—how out of place she felt in her own skin, in this small town, in this funeral.
Jade had done the same. She had found a black dress of her own, more form-fitting, a simple fabric that fell just below her knees. She stood next to Cat, both of them silently acknowledging the strange sadness of the moment. It was strange for Jade too, not just because of the grief they were experiencing, but because this wasn't her family, this wasn't her loss. And yet, she felt it deeply—felt it for Cat, for the family she had never truly been close to but now found herself standing beside.
The ceremony itself was small. There were only a handful of people present—mostly family, a couple of distant relatives and friends of Cat's parents. There was no need for an elaborate funeral. Matteo had never been a social person, his life marked more by the illness that had consumed him than by any outside relationships he had formed.
Cat stood quietly beside her parents as the ceremony began. Her father, Leo, was stoic and silent, his face grim but composed, while her mother, Cassandra, clung to Cat as if the loss of her son had drained all the life from her. There was no lavish display of flowers, no grand speeches. The priest spoke words of comfort, but Cat hardly heard them. Instead, she focused on the weight of the moment, the quietness of it all. It was hard for her to reconcile this reality—the finality of her brother's death, the emptiness it left behind.
Jade stood beside her, her hand quietly resting on Cat's back, offering silent support as the priest spoke. She could see the tension in Cat's shoulders, how she stood rigid, like she was trying to hold everything in, but Jade knew how hard it was for her. The weight of grief was suffocating, but Jade didn't want to say anything. She didn't want to interrupt the delicate balance of silence that seemed to surround them all.
As the ceremony ended, there was a soft procession to the small burial site. The ground had already been prepared, and the family gathered around as the casket was lowered. Cat watched silently, not sure what to think or feel. She had a lifetime of complicated feelings toward her brother, but in this moment, all she felt was loss—loss of time, of potential, of a brother she would never get to know again.
The family didn't linger. There was no wake to follow, no after-party like the ones she had been accustomed to with her career. Instead, the four of them just returned to the house.
The day was over almost as quickly as it had begun. There was no fanfare, no grand statements. Just grief, just the quiet understanding that life had shifted in some way, that things would never be the same. Cat didn't know how to process it all. It was like a wound that had opened deep inside her chest, one that was raw and aching.
But as the day drew to a close, and the house grew quieter, Jade sat with her. She didn't need to say anything. She just sat there, with Cat, in that small, quiet space, the weight of everything sitting between them.