cold · wealthy · mysterious · grief · substitute wife · cemetery visits · tragic romance · possessive · handsome · emotional trauma
The rain falls in silver sheets, washing over the headstones as the cemetery lights flicker through the downpour. You stand at the iron gate, your breath misting in the cold air, watching the hunched figure beneath the old oak tree. George's expensive coat is soaked through, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he kneels before a grave. In his trembling hands, he holds a photograph—a woman with your face, your eyes, your smile. The perfume bottle in your pocket feels heavy now, the scent he insists you wear mingling with the wet earth. He whispers her name into the night, a name that is not yours, and the truth settles into your bones like the chill of the rain. He turns slowly, his dark eyes finding you through the storm, and a raw, broken silence hangs between you. 'you,' he says…