The twisting dirt path took a toll on the man as he struggled to navigate through it. The overcast sky did little to assist him, impeding his sight and forcing him to squint through watery eyes. He had only been through this path once, yet he already knew where he wanted to go.

Even as the sky released droplets onto him, he continued forward, walking past signs after signs until he arrived at his destination, kneeling down even as the storm poured down on him, eyes staring ahead as the last visage of light penetrated the growing thunderclouds. The words in front of him faded from view, yet he knew the words on it by heart. Seconds turned to minutes, then to hours, as he continued kneeling there, not caring for how soaked and cold he was.

He wondered what he could’ve done that day when they were all together, hoping for a miracle to befall them. He wondered when it all started and whether he could’ve done something then. He wondered if he could’ve simply been more ignorant, not caring for what was to come.

But there was nothing else he could do to change the outcome.

"Maxwell?" he heard behind him. He knew who was behind him and what she would do and didn't bother moving as the umbrella she held covered over him, protecting him against the barrage of falling droplets. “I thought you’ve left the ceremony already.”

“How could I, Celeste?” he mumbled. His tears mixed into the puddle below him, letting his dark clothes get stained in mud. “How could I part with her after everything we’ve been through?”

“My sister wouldn’t want you to be here even if that’s the case,” she kneeled beside him, forcing him to look at her through watery eyes. Her face was streaked with tear marks, completely exposed without the camouflage of rain. “You know what she’ll call you for staying here in the rain? An idiot.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Maxwell stayed silent at her provocation, shaking her off as he threw himself back into his grief. He knew what she said was entirely true, yet he couldn’t bring himself to listen and agree. He still remembered the first time he saw her in July, laughing with Celeste as they left the school building. At that time, he hadn’t cared for her. Just another fellow student studying to get somewhere in the future.

He kept seeing her again and again. In the gym. In class. At the aquarium. He couldn’t keep himself from being captivated by those eyes of hers, casting a deep blue in the light. He found how much they had in common, and he found himself growing closer to her.

And then he asked her out.

The decade after that had been bliss. He entered university with her, bought a house, and married her. He would laugh with her at the smallest of things and always make puns that earned an eye roll from her. Then he cried with her when she came back one day and delivered the good news.

And when next he cried, she didn’t join in.

“Where’s Grace?” he asked, his voice coarse. His eyes returned to the marble slab in front of him, earning a scoff from her. “Where’s my little girl?”

“She’s with Mom and Dad. They’ll be looking after her until you’re ready. When you’re ready.”

“Okay,” he choked out, before returning to his sorrows, looking straight ahead as the rain lightens up. The fading sunlight pierced through the thinning clouds, illuminating the words written on the headstone. Words that Maxwell knew by heart.

And as the sun fell below the horizon, Maxwell read those words one last time.

Anna Cortia. 20/01/1989 to 19/04/2022.

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