A chill wind swept over the cemetery, rustling the solemn rows of tombstones. Cathleen's heels crunched on the gravel, her black dress clinging to her like a second skin. Xavier's arm was a vice around their daughter Bella, his jaw set and eyes dark as the sky above. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as they advanced, a wave of turned heads marking their path.

 

"Look at that," someone hissed from the sea of black attire.

 

"Did she really have to come?"

 

"Shh...it's starting."

 

They settled near the front, close enough for William to feel their presence. His eyes met Cathleen's, an unspoken storm in the glance they shared. Cathleen lowered...