Vanessa took her children to the cemetery on a cold day when the wind was blowing so hard that it made the branches crackle. The night was falling, and the air was heavy with an indescribable weight, yet also tinged with a warmth of emotion. They walked as a family, their pace unhurried, as if they were afraid to disturb something or perhaps treading on some silent memory. Vanessa was tightly wrapped in her black coat, her eyes reflecting a complex mix of determination and vulnerability. Her eldest daughter, Natalia, had grown into a young woman with a mature composure on her face, while the younger daughters, Bianca and Capri, clung closely to their mother, looking around with a sense of bewilderment. They may not have fully grasped the meaning of "loss," but the longing for their father and sister was etched in their eyes. The cemetery was quiet, so quiet it felt like the entrance to another world. Kobe and GIGI's tombstones stood there, the cold stone engraved with their names, yet somehow conveying a sense of familiarity that was hard to put into words. Vanessa gently squatted down, her fingers caressing the stone, as if trying to touch something or comfort herself. Her voice was soft as she recounted stories about Kobe and GIGI to the children, telling them how they fought tirelessly for their dreams and how they held up the family with love. The children sat around her, listening intently, their faces filled with thought. Suddenly, Bianca softly called out "Daddy," her voice small but creating…