That day, the father was driving home with the boys. Everything was calm — a familiar road, little traffic. But at that exact moment, the accident happened. The car was crushed like a tin can, and according to the rescuers, no one survived.

For the woman, the world collapsed. Days blurred into fog, nights felt endless. She stopped living — she merely existed, spending all her time in the cemetery, talking to the two stone photographs she touched with trembling fingers.