Death Anniversary

CHAPTER 25: DEATH ANNIVERSARY.

AMELIA'S POV

The evening air is thick with humidity as I step out of the cab, clutching a bouquet of white lilies against my chest. My fingers tighten around the delicate stems, my knuckles turning white as I look around. The cemetery is quiet, the only sounds are coming from the rustling leaves and distant chirps of crickets. The fading sunlight casts long shadows over the headstones, and my breath comes out shaky as I force myself to take a step forward.

I shouldn’t be nervous.  It’s just my mother’s grave. I’ve done this every year, haven’t I? But I know it’s not her that has my heart slamming against my ribs. It’s him.

As I walk down the gravel path, my gaze flickers ahead, and I finally see them clearly. Emily stands a few feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes filled with relief as they land on me. And beside her—him. My father. He stands tall, rigid, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit. He doesn’t look at me. Not even once as I finally move closer to them.

Emily acknowledges my presence with a nod which I quickly return. I glance at my father while still holding the lilies that I had bought tightly 

My lips part, but the words die in my throat. The weight of his silence crushes me harder than anything he could ever say. Still, I push forward, my legs moving before my brain can process the pain seeping into my chest.

   “Hi, Mom,” I whisper as I kneel before the grave, gently placing the lilies at the base of the headstone. My fingers brush over the engraved name, the cool stone sending a shiver up my spine as I look at her picture. “It's me, Rachel. I miss you. So much.”

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I try to fight back the emotions clawing at my throat. “I... I’ve been doing okay. Work has been tough, but I’m managing. I—” My voice wavers. I swallow hard and force myself to continue. “A lot of things have changed and...and everything is going well for us." I wipe the tear that had dropped on my cheek. 

I am not sure if she can see me from heaven, but if she can't, then I am sorry for lying to her that everything is going well. "I think you’d like Emily. She’s amazing. Strong, kind. Just like you. She looks so much like you. I am most certain that you would have been so much proud of her.”

Proud of her than I am...

Proud of her than you would have been of me if you were alive...

I glance at Emily, who offers me a small, encouraging smile. But the warmth doesn’t reach my bones. Not when I know he’s still there, standing behind me, refusing to acknowledge my existence.

I say a few more words and let her know that I will be back to visit her soon.

Slowly, I push myself up and turn to face him. My father’s gaze is fixed on the grave as if I’m nothing more than the wind passing by. My stomach tightens.

   “Dad,” I start, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know you don’t want to see me, but... I just wanted to talk.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition.

  “Please,” I plead, stepping closer. “I know you hate me, but I—”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t! Even at her grave, you don't have the boldness to let her know the horrible thing that you've done,” he mutters, his voice cold and sharp, cutting through me like a blade.

   "So, you finally accept the fact that you are disgraceful and your mother would not even be proud of having you as a daughter."

My lips quiver as he continues to speak while I try so hard not to burst into tears in his presence.

Emily moves forward, placing a hand on his arm with a frown.“Dad, please, just listen to her—”

   “She has nothing to say that I need to hear.” His tone is final, absolute.

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. “I just want to know why. Why do you look at me like I’m a stranger? Like I mean nothing to you?” My voice cracks. “I did everything I did for you.”

He exhales sharply as if the mere thought of me drains him. “Shut up! Don't try to put the blame on me. Do not for even once think that you can escape Karma by putting the blame on me. I never asked you to. If you can’t make up for the past, Rachel, then don’t bother speaking to me again. You might as well forget that you have a father!”

I freeze. His words sink into my skin, burrowing deep into the very core of me. The air around me turns suffocating, pressing down on my chest. My hands tremble at my sides. I reach out, desperate, grabbing his sleeve. “Dad, please, don't joke—”

He yanks his arm away as if my touch burns him. 

   “Enough.”

Then, without another word, he turns and walks away.

The last thread of hope I have shattered. 

A choked sob escapes me, and Emily pulls me into her arms. “I’m so sorry, Rachel,” she whispers, rubbing soothing circles against my back. I grip onto her tightly, feeling like I might collapse if I let go.

   "I am so sorry," she says, sobbing on my shoulder while I cry like a baby.

But even after Emily leaves, I stay. My legs give out beneath me, and I fall to my knees in front of my mother’s grave, pressing my forehead against the cold stone. The sky darkens, and with it, my resolve crumbles.

   “I tried,” I whisper, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I tried so hard, Mom. But he still hates me. Do you perhaps agree? Do you also hate me? Were my decisions actually that bad?”

The first drops of rain hit my skin, mixing with the tears that won’t stop falling. The wind picks up, howling through the cemetery as if mourning with me. Within minutes, the drizzle turns into a full storm, soaking through my clothes, but I don’t move. I can’t. The weight of the past holds me down, crushing my heart and drowning me in sorrow.

I don’t know how long I sit there, but when I finally force myself to stand, it’s already dark. My phone rings but I refuse to answer any calls. My limbs feel heavy as I drag myself away. 

By the time I reach home, my body is shaking from the cold, my clothes plastered to my skin. I barely make it through the front door before warm arms wrap around me, pulling me into a firm embrace.

    “Rachel!” Marco’s voice is filled with concern. “What the hell happened to you?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. The moment I feel his warmth, the dam inside me bursts. A broken sob rips through my throat, and I clutch onto him, burying my face in his chest as I cry. Hard. Uncontrollably.

  “Why does he hate me?” My voice is muffled against his shirt, but the pain in it is unmistakable. “What have I done so wrong? I did all I did because of him. Why doesn’t he appreciate it? I told him...I told him that I was sorry. I apologized! I told him that I was so sorry but why? Why does it not matter anymore?”

Marco stiffens, but his arms tighten around me, grounding me. He doesn’t press for answers. He just holds me as I crumble, his steady presence the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

I don’t know when the exhaustion finally wins, but at some point, my sobs turn into silent shivers, and my grip on him loosens.

And then, everything fades into darkness.

.

.

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NOAH'S POV

   "Have you been able to reach her?" Marco asks me urgently but I shake my head.

I arrived home an hour ago but Rachel is yet to come back. The weather forecast had read out that there would be a huge storm tonight and everyone should remain indoors but she is nowhere to be found.

  "I had Beatrice cut down her work hour to 5 pm so she can come home early but..." I mumble with frustration as I continue calling her phone.

In just a few minutes, she actually walks in in a daze. She is soaked and her clothes are stained with dirt. Marco rushes towards her and she falls into his arms and continues to cry.

I've never seen her cry before.

I hear her speak her heartbreaking words out and somehow, I feel a prick in my heart- why does her words...her situation reminds me of the kind of person I was years ago? 

What happened to her that made her turn out like this? Who was she talking about? 

Marco turns to look at me a few minutes later, "she is asleep."

I nod and move closer to them. He carefully hands her over to me. I do not mind that her clothes are soaked or dirty as that isn't what is important. I lift her up and carry her to her bedroom where I place her carefully on her bed. I stare at her, not sure of what I should do.

I can't start undressing her, nor can I let her sleep in these cold clothes, or else, she might fall sick the next day due to a fever.

So there is only one option left.