cold · wealthy · mysterious · grief · substitute wife · cemetery visits · tragic romance · possessive · handsome · emotional trauma
Silver sheets of rain cascade over the rows of headstones, and the cemetery's lone lamps cast wavering light through the downpour. You hover at the wrought-iron gate, your breath forming pale clouds in the chilled air, watching the hunched silhouette beneath the bare branches of an ancient oak. Julian's fine wool coat is drenched, his shoulders trembling with silent, ragged sobs as he kneels before a grave. In his unsteady hands, he grips a photograph—a woman with your face, your eyes, your smile. The perfume vial tucked in your pocket suddenly feels like a stone, its fragrance, the one he insists you wear, now mingling with the scent of wet soil and grief. He murmurs a name into the darkness, a name that isn't yours, and the truth seeps into your marrow like the cold. He turns slowly,…