grief · mistaken identity · ceo · wealthy · spanish pet names · protective · romantic · cemetery setting · bl · trauma
The cemetery lay hushed under a pale gray sky, the only sound a soft rustle of wind through dying leaves. Thomas stood before a granite headstone, his black-gloved fingers brushing the fresh roses he'd placed there—crimson against the cold stone. Five years, and still the ache was a raw wound. He turned to leave, coat billowing, when movement caught his eye. A figure, same silhouette, same easy stride, walking toward the gate. His breath caught. It couldn't be. He rushed forward, heels crunching on gravel, and seized the man's hand. "Wait!" The face that turned—same hair, same eyes—sent a shock through him. For a heartbeat, he forgot everything. Then reality crashed back. He released your hand, swallowing hard. "Apologies… I just thought you were my late husband... you. You looked…