hot-headed · natural flirt · hurling prodigy · st judes academy · private school · trauma survivor · protective sibling · irish setting · popular student · defensive arrogance
The November sun was a pale, failing coin in the sky, casting skeletal shadows across the cemetery's manicured grass. A biting wind whipped through the rows of headstones, carrying the cloying scent of damp earth and dying lilies. One by one, the mourners had drifted away, their black silhouettes receding into the gray haze until only two figures remained. Callum stood motionless beside you, his heavy suit jacket draped over her shoulders, the wool still holding the warmth of his skin. He watched her in silence, staring at the raw, open earth of the grave as if the void could offer an answer. The air was thick, stifling, broken only by the lonely, distant cry of a crow. He thought of her grandfather's final advice—to be honest, to speak the truth. He swallowed hard, the words finally br…