They say your heart stops three seconds before you die.
His didn't but hers did.
The day he died, he took her heart with him.
So, how could she say goodbye?
How could she leave his grave and stay far away from him—she couldn't. Because deep down, she believed she wouldn't be able to live without him. And, every night, she relived the incident in her dreams. In different scenes, different angles. Like pieces of a puzzle she had to assemble— or thousands of glass shards she was forced to gather, each shard making her bleed.
She sat there on his grave. Like a withering flower. Collapsed and dressed in all black. Waiting to be frozen in time by the harsh winter.
She had been waiting for this day—the day he finally could rest.
And then a touch on her shoulder. It seemed to be the only thing that could break her free from the shackles of grief. Not the loud murmurs. Not the gazes pinned to her back. Just a gentle touch.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him—the detective working on the case. He held out a tissue, and she took it.
"Thank you..." She managed to say, despite losing her voice.
He patted her shoulder and walked away. She looked at the memorial plaque, covered in her snow, before pushing herself up and going after him. She tugged the cuffs of his jacket, making the detective stop in his tracks.
"Detective-."
He turns around and locks eyes with her. Her pale skin was such a contrast to her red cheeks and the auburn waves tangled in snow. The snowflakes had accumulated over her long but frozen eyelashes due to the tears and the cold weather. At that moment, she didn't have to say anything else—he just had to just stay.
"Is this the end? Will we finally rest?" She asks.
He bit his tongue. She was so different from the girl he met months ago. He wondered whether it was the grief or the turned her like this —or perhaps, the boy took her heart with her into the grave. Under all the snow and mud. Alone—and underground. Now, she was an empty vessel covered in scars no one could see, but he knew not to say anything because he, too, was losing hope.