The gravel underneath my shoes is the only thing that disturbs the peace as I walk up to my parentsâ tombstones, my heart filled with regret.
I pause in front of their graves, inhaling shakily. It never gets easier to come here. Every time I see their tombstones, fresh agony overtakes me.
âI miss you,â I whisper. Iâm all alone in the graveyard, yet I canât get myself to raise my voice. My eyes fall closed, and I take a steadying breath. âIâm sorry, Mom, Dad. I⦠Iâm so sorry.â
I donât even know where to begin explaining myself. Iâve failed them, disappointed them.
âFor a long time, I believed that you two were looking down at us, protecting us. All the little bits of luck we had, winning partial scholarships, winning food vouchers or trips, or that time Aria desperately needed a new bicycle, and the guys at my collegeâs lost and found told me I could take the one thatâd unexpectedly shown up there⦠I thought that was you. Turns out, it was Harold Astor. It was all him. He did it out of guilt, I guess.â
I shake my head and pace on the little path in front of their graves, unsure how to explain myself, how to ask for their forgiveness.
âI accepted all those instances of what I thought was good luck, but it was charity born out of guilt. Like giving us a helping hand could ever make up for losing you.â I run a hand through my hair, my eyes falling closed. âI wish that was the full extent of the sin I committed, but it wasnât.â
I laugh to myself despite the pain. âI fell in love. True love. The type that you two had. It was the kind of love I didnât think existed. The stuff they show in the movies. Except⦠I fell in love with the one person youâd never approve of. She tells me she didnât know, and at the time I didnât believe her, but now? Now that Iâve calmed down and had some time to think? Yeah, she didnât know. That doesnât make it any better, but at least I can tell you that much. Neither she nor I ever set out to tarnish the memory of you.â
I run a hand through my hair, unsure of what I even want to say. âIâm here today because I want to ask you for forgiveness. The girl I fell in love with is the daughter of the man that killed you. If not for her father, youâd still be here. Dad, youâd be walking Aria down the aisle. Mom, youâd have had a chance to meet Grayson and tease me about how much more you love him than you love me, because you would. Youâd be so happy to have him as a son-in-law, and heâd have been so happy to have a mother like you. Itâs because of Amaraâs father that youâll never experience any of that.â
My eyes roam over the marble tombstones and the flowers Aria has planted over the years, my throat closing up. I raise my head up to the sky, taking a moment to gather my thoughts, to control my emotions.
âI donât regret the time I spent with her,â I whisper. âI love her, and Iâll live off the memories I made with her for the rest of my life⦠and for that, Iâm so incredibly sorry. She and I donât have a future together, and Iâm sorry I fell for her at all. I canât be with her knowing who her father is. I canât have her in my life and watch her reconnect with him. I canât watch him rebuild his life after he took away yours. Iâll never be able to look at her again without seeing you.â
I take a step back and swallow back my tears. I havenât cried in years, but today my heart feels raw, vulnerable. âForgive me,â I whisper. âPlease forgive me.â
I turn and walk away, my heart clenching painfully. Iâve never felt this defeated before. Iâm out of a job and unable to find anything, and on top of that the girl I lost everything over is the one person Iâd never want to be with had I known who she was when I met her. Amara and her family cost me everything, twice.
âBoy.â I look up to find a lady standing by a florist cart at the exit. Iâve seen her before⦠the day Grayson proposed to Aria. âRemember,â she says. âLife is for the living.â
She resumes trimming the ends of her flower stalks, dismissing me. I stare at her for a few seconds, her words resounding through my mind. I think of her all the way home. Life is for the living⦠maybe so, but that doesnât mean the dead shouldnât be honored.
Silence greets me as I walk into the house. I went straight to the cemetery from the airport, in part because I was avoiding coming here. I stayed away for two weeks, searching for jobs remotely from Aria and Grayâs house. I guess I was both hoping and fearing that Iâd walk in and Amara would be here.
Of course she isnât.
I leave my suitcase in the hallway and walk in, my eyes roaming over the empty living room. There isnât a trace of Amara. The candles she bought are gone, and so are her books, her prototype sketches and her tools. Itâs almost like she never lived here at all.
I sigh as I walk to the sofa and sit down. I reach for the remote control, needing a distraction. For just a few moments, I want to lose myself in a life that isnât my own, a movie thatâll make me feel something other than pure devastation and guilt.
I pause on the townâs news channel, my eyes widening when I recognize Amara. My heart clenches like fucking crazy. But thatâs nothing compared to the way it feels when the camera moves to Gregory. Heâs holding her hand the way I used to, the way I thought no other man ever would.
âThe rumors are true,â he says, a smug grin on his face. âThe lovely Amara Astor has agreed to be my wife.â
I rise to my feet, the remote control falling to the floor. Amara smiles, looking perfectly happy. Two weeks. I ended things with her two weeks ago, and in that time she fucking got engaged to Gregory?
I laugh to myself, reminded of what Amara once told me Gregory said to her. He told her that one day, when sheâs done playing around with the help, sheâd go back to him. I guess he was right.
I glance at one of the photos of my parents in the living room, my heart filled with intense regret. It wasnât even real to Amara. I guess she always knew she could go back home, that Gregory would want her back. It was just me risking everything.