“I lost her,” I said finally. “I lost Aurora.”
Silence. Just the wind.
“She’s… she’s everything you used to be,” I murmured. “Kind, patient. Too kind sometimes. The type that listens when people don’t deserve to be heard. The type that forgives before anyone even says sorry.”
I leaned forward a little, elbows on my knees.
“She made me feel like I wasn’t broken anymore. Like maybe I could be someone good. Someone you’d still be proud of.”
My voice cracked a bit. I didn’t care.
“I told her to go,” I whispered. “I told her I didn’t want to see her again. I didn’t mean it. I was just… scared.”
I swallowed hard, staring at her name.
“She’s so good, Mom. She’s—” I let out a broken laugh. “She’s soft. She talks as if she’s scared to take up space. She laughs at stupid things. She’s got this look when she concentrates, and I swear she doesn’t even realise how beautiful she is. I fell for her. I really fucking did. I fell for her so fast I didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late.”
My hands clenched into fists on my knees.
“I thought I didn’t deserve her,” I said, quieter now. “I thought she’d realise I wasn’t enough and leave, anyway. So, I did it first. I hurt her before she could hurt me. And now she’s gone.”
I looked at the two graves again.
“You’d tell me I’m an idiot,” I said. “And you’d be right.”
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of rain again. I stared at the flowers for a long time, my chest tight.
“What do I do, Mom?” I whispered. My throat burned. My shoulder shook so hard, it physically ached all over my body. “She’s not coming back anymore, Mom. I lost it all, I lost everything.”
I sat there for a long time, just talking to her. About Aurora. About the year I’d known her. About the stupid things: how she fed stray cats, how she can’t handle coffee, how she eats bread like it’s a whole meal.
And then I told her the truth.
“She makes me want to be better,” I said softly. “For her. For you. For me.”
I stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off my hands.
“But you know those stupid movie lines?” I whispered. “If you love someone, you have to let them go…”
I looked at her name one more time. Then at Evelyn Grayson’s.
I looked down at the lilies on my mom’s grave. White. Clean. I took one out from the bunch and stared at it for a second, then glanced at the stone beside hers.
Alex’s mum.
I crouched, brushing the wet grass away from the base of her stone, and laid a single lily there too.
“Asshole,” a voice called out. “My mum’s allergic to lilies.”
I didn’t have to turn around to recognise the damn way he said mom…mum.But I turned anyway and saw Alex walking up the hill, a bouquet of bright, wild flowers in his hand.
I huffed out a quiet laugh. “Well, you never come visit her anyway, so she wouldn’t know.”
He scoffed. “You’re an idiot.”
“And,” I added, pointing to Evelyn’s headstone, “I think she’s fine now. Look, not sneezing.”
He gave me that flat, deadpan glare. “You’re so fucking dumb.”
