The cemetery was quiet, the kind of silence that sat heavy in the air. The wind moved through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth, stirring the fallen leaves in slow, deliberate patterns. The late afternoon light stretched long shadows across the path as Rhys and I walked, his hand warm against mine, grounding me in a way I needed more than I wanted to admit.
It had taken me longer than I expected to come back here—to stand before Drew’s grave with something other than raw grief tearing at my chest. But now, with Rhys beside me, the weight of it all felt different. Still heavy, still painful, but softened somehow.
We reached the headstone, the name etched deep into the stone: Drew S. Rivera. The sight of it still made my breath hitch, like my body hadn’t quite accepted the realit
