Page 45

Angelique

T he cemetery is quieter than I remember, colder too.

I step off the bus and wrap my coat tighter around me as I make my way down the familiar path, my fingers tucked into my sleeves.

My boots sink into the wet ground, the sound loud in the hush of early morning as the clouds hang low and grey above, like even the sky’s mourning this day.

Five years ago, today, my dad passed away, and this is where I buried him. I told Reign and Lando that I needed to do this alone and that I’d meet them at Imperium later for rehearsal, but as I round the bend that leads to the two old oak trees where my father’s buried, I freeze in place.

I catch a flash of white-blond hair, the unmistakable broad shoulders, the way his long black coat flutters slightly in the wind.

I step behind the nearest tree, peering out from behind the trunk, heart thudding as I watch Reign.

He’s standing motionless in front of the headstone, a small bouquet of marigolds in his hand—my father’s favourite.

The sight punches the breath from my lungs.

“Hi again, Elijah,” he murmurs. “It’s been a while. ”

The wind shifts, rustling the branches overhead as I try to keep my breathing steady.

“I don’t really know if this is as weird for you as it is for me,” he continues. “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to you about your daughter whenever I’ve visited you here.” He pauses. “But she… she’s everything to me.”

My breath catches, my hand curling against the tree bark.

“I know you probably already know that. Wherever you are. I just wanted to say…” He clears his throat. “She’s hurting. A lot. But I’ll take care of her. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her through this. I swear.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, then he glances down at the bouquet in his hand and kneels, laying the flowers down carefully. His fingers brush the edge of the tag before he lets go. Then he stands and steps back, looking at the grave one last time.

“Thank you… for her.”

He turns and walks away, his coat whipping behind him in the wind, and I wait until he’s fully out of sight before stepping out from behind the tree, my legs trembling beneath me, and my eyes burning.

I make my way forward and stop between the two oaks, staring down at the well-kept headstone.

Elijah Sinclair

Loving Father. Devoted Dancer. Gone too soon.

My eyes catch on the bouquet Reign rested at the base of the stone . My dad always said Marigolds looked like tiny suns and refused to let my mom plant any other flower in the garden. Even after they divorced, that was the only plant he made sure stayed alive in that garden.

I blink slowly, staring down at the careful arrangement. A simple black ribbon is tied around the stems, but my eyes catch on the handwriting scratched into the small white tag attached to the ribbon. I bend down and hold the tag up so I can read it.

For the man who left me the most important piece of himself.

— R.

I swallow around the lump rising in my throat as I sink to my knees in front of the stone, the cold from the ground seeping into my bones.

A gust of wind pushes through the trees above, making the branches creak like they're grieving too.

I place my hand on the top of the headstone, grounding myself.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper. “Happy death day. That sounds wrong, doesn’t it?” I let out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a sob. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

I run my fingers over the grooves of his name, blinking back tears as the wind lifts my curls from my face.

“I didn’t think anyone else would come,” I whisper. “But… you’ve already had a visitor this year.”

I sit with him in silence for a while, letting the quiet hold me, then, slowly, the words come.

“Things are… bad. I don’t even know how to explain it all. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Some days I wake up and feel okay for an hour or two, and then other days, like today, I wonder what the point of all of this even is. ”

My eyes sting, but I don’t wipe the tears away.

“I miss you. I miss you more now than ever. And I hate that you’re not here to tell me what to do. I don’t know how to make the hurt stop.” My voice breaks on the last word. “I don’t know how to breathe without feeling like I’m suffocating on everything that was done to me.”

I reach down and touch the ribbon Reign left, my hand trembling.

“Reign’s been amazing. And Lando too. They’re both trying so hard to keep me together, but I can’t keep leaning on them like this. I can see how scared they are, how much I’m breaking them just by existing.”

Tears fall, warm against the cold air.

“My mother doesn’t even believe me,” I whisper. “She called me to scream at me. To defend my abuser. To tell me I was ruining everything.” I laugh bitterly. “How can the one person who’s supposed to love me the most… not love me at all?”

I clutch my coat tighter, like I can hold myself together with just fabric.

“I’m so tired, Dad. I’m trying, I really am. But I feel like I’m losing the will to live. And I know that sounds dramatic and maybe it is—but I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I can’t stop feeling like I’m broken in ways that can’t ever be fixed.”

The wind picks up again, and I curl forward, resting my forehead against the cold stone, pretending it’s him as I try to stay warm.

“I love Reign,” I whisper. “God, I love him so much, and I know he’d fall apart if I ever left him. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’m already gone. And I don’t know how to come back. He doesn’t deserve that.”

The silence that follows isn’t comforting, it’s heavy .

“I wish you were here,” I whisper. “Because maybe if you were, I wouldn’t feel so goddamn alone.”

A sob slips through my throat as I sit up straight now, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“I guess I just came to say goodbye,” I whisper again. “And see you soon.”

I lay down my bouquet of peonies next to Reign’s arrangement, and kiss the headstone before I stand and walk away without looking back. I don’t take the same path I came in on either, because I’m not going home.