---- Chapter 8 The cemetery was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaotic scene Chloe had just fled. A small group of people were gathered around a plot of freshly turned earth. My parents stood side- by-side, my mother leaning heavily on my father, her face a mess of tears. A few of my old college friends, a couple of cousins. That was it. My humble, quiet end. Sarah arrived first, walking quickly up the grassy hill. My mother embraced her, sobbing onto her shoulder. My father gave her a sad, grateful nod. Then, a second figure appeared at the bottom of the hill. A woman in a brilliant white wedding dress, now stained with grass and dirt at the hem. It was Chloe. Her arrival sent a shockwave through our small group of mourners. My father' s sadness hardened into anger. "What is she doing here?" he growled, stepping in front of my mother as if to shield her. My cousin, David, took a step toward her. "You have no right to be here! Get out!" Chloe didn' t seem to hear them. Her eyes were fixed on the simple, polished granite headstone. She walked toward it like a sleepwalker, her movements jerky and unnatural. ---- Ethan Miller Beloved Son and Friend 1995 - 2023 When she read the words, a sound escaped her throat. It was a dry, choked gasp. She reached out a trembling hand, her fingers tracing my name carved into the stone. The reality of it, cold and hard under her fingertips, finally broke through her denial. She fell to her knees. The sound of her cry was raw and animalistic, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. It was the sound of a world breaking apart. | floated nearby, watching, stunned. | had expected her to feel regret, maybe even sadness. | had not expected this. This was a grief so profound, so violent, it seemed to tear her apart from the inside. This was not the reaction of a woman who never truly loved me. My mother, seeing Chloe' s breakdown, was overcome with her own wave of grief and rage. "You!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Chloe. "This is your fault! You did this to him! You broke his heart and you killed him!" "Helen, stop," my father said, putting his arm around her, but his own eyes were burning with a cold fire as he looked at Chloe. "Leave," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "If you ---- ' re just here to make a scene, to show off your wedding dress at my son's grave, then you can leave." Chloe didn' t respond. She was on her hands and knees, clawing at the dirt, at the grass covering my grave. "No," she sobbed, her voice hoarse. "No, it' s not real. Ethan! It' s not reall" She was trying to dig me up, to physically deny the reality of my death. It was a scene of madness and pure despair. Sarah rushed forward and grabbed Chloe' s arms, trying to pull her back. "Chloe, stop it! Stop! You' re making it worse!" "Let go of me!" Chloe screamed, struggling against her. "He can't be gone! He can't!" Just then, another car screeched to a halt on the cemetery road. Mark Johnson stormed up the hill, his face purple with rage. He looked at the scene-his bride, covered in dirt, screaming at a grave, being restrained by the woman who had ruined their wedding. "Chloe! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled. He shoved Sarah aside. "Get your hands off my fiancée!" He tried to pull Chloe to her feet, but she fought him off. "He ' s gone, Mark!" she wailed. "Ethan's gone!" Mark looked from her hysterical face to my grave, and then to the angry faces of my family. "This is insane," he spat. He pointed at Sarah. "This is your fault! You filled her head with this nonsense and dragged her here!" ---- My friend David stepped up to Mark, his fists clenched. "She came on her own. And you need to back off. You' re not welcome here." "I'll go where my fiancée goes," Mark sneered My father, a man | had never seen lose his temper, walked right up to Mark until they were face to face. "She is not your fiancée here. Here, she is the woman who destroyed my son. Now get off this sacred ground before | have you removed." The air was thick with hate. My quiet funeral had become a battlefield of grief, guilt, and rage.