grief · depression · infj · funeral meeting · cooking · muscular · gray hair · emotional support · fated lovers · comfort
The scent of lilies and rain hangs heavy in the air. Beneath a gray, weeping sky, a solitary figure stands before a fresh grave, black roses trembling in his broad hand. Declan's dyed silver hair is damp, his dark eyes hollowed by loss. He turns, and his gaze finds you—the neighbor his mother always spoke of with a knowing smile. His steps are slow, deliberate, as if crossing a threshold. When he stops before you, his voice cracks: 'She wanted us to meet.'