The room froze.
Even the fluorescent buzz seemed to fade, as if the world itself was listening.
Lena stayed pressed against the coffin, her hand gripping the broken wood so tightly it bled.
Another sound came.
Not a movement.
A rhythm.
Knock.
Pause.
Knock. Knock.
Her entire body stiffened.
Behind her, Aunt Margaret whispered, terrified:
“That’s impossible…”
Lena slowly lifted her head.
Her eyes were no longer angry.
They were terrified in a different way.
Hope is louder than fear when it finally arrives.
She whispered into the opening:
“If you’re in there… give me one more sign.”
The coffin answered.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Lena stumbled back, shaking violently. Her lips parted like she couldn’t decide whether to scream or cry.
Then she laughed—broken, disbelieving, almost painful.
“No… no, no, no…”
She turned toward the frozen mourners, tears spilling down her face.
And in a voice that shattered everything:
“She wasn’t dead.”
The coffin trembled again.
Harder this time.
Something inside was waking up.
