EMMA
The graveyard was still.
I followed the narrow path that led to my mother's grave, a bouquet of fresh lilies clenched tightly in my hand. My knees sank into the soft grass as I knelt before the headstone, brushing away the brittle remnants of leaves and dirt that had gathered around it.
My gaze drifted to the grave beside hers. The name Tyler carved into the stone made my chest tighten. I reached out, fingers tracing each letter like a wound I couldn't stop reopening.
Two graves. Two lives stolen too soon.
I placed half the bouquet on my mother's resting place and then laid the rest on Tyler's, the cool stone biting against my skin. Lowering myself to sit, I pulled my knees to my chest and swiped at the tear that slipped uninvited down my cheek.
I could still see her—my mother's face, her eyes crinkling when she smiled, her soft laugh that filled every room. I missed her warmth, her touch, the way she always made me feel like I mattered, even when the world didn't.
