Sharon was waiting in the hallway when Adam came out.
Her phone was in her handbag now.
She folded her arms.
“You embarrassed me.”
Adam looked at her.
“You recorded me crying at my mother’s funeral.”
“I was crying too.”
“Then you could have put the camera on yourself.”
June stood beside him.
“Delete it, Mum.”
Sharon’s expression sharpened.
“I don’t need both of you attacking me.”
The funeral director remained nearby, giving them space without leaving Adam alone.
Sharon glanced toward him, then lowered her voice.
“Your mother was my sister. You don’t own the grief.”
Adam felt the sentence land where she intended it.
For a moment, he questioned himself.
Ruth had been her sister for longer than she had been his mother. Sharon had childhood memories he would never have. She had every right to mourn.
Then he remembered the phone following his face.
“You’re allowed to grieve,” he said. “You’re not allowed to decide that I have to do it for your audience.”
Sharon shook her head.
“People have been supporting us all week.”
“What people?”
“My followers. They cared about Ruth.”
“They didn’t know her.”
“They knew what I shared.”
That answer stayed between them.
Adam suddenly understood how much of his mother’s illness Sharon had been describing online.
“What else did you post?”
“Updates.”
“What updates?”
“This is not the time.”
“You made it the time.”
Sharon turned to June.
“Take him home. He’s exhausted.”
June did not move.
“He asked you a question.”
For the first time, Sharon looked uncertain.
Then she reached into her handbag.
“Fine. I’ll take the funeral video down.”
She tapped her screen with quick, irritated movements.
“There. Happy?”
Adam had never felt less happy in his life.
“Send me confirmation. And don’t upload any part of it again.”
Sharon looked toward the entrance.
Several relatives stood there, pretending not to listen.
“This family used to appreciate me.”
Adam picked up his mother’s cardigan.
He walked past her without answering.
