Always you

Tamsyn The morning sun hung low above the hills, gentle and gold, spilling across the small cemetery like it were afraid to disturb the stillness there. A cool wind whispered through the cypress trees, brushing against Tamsyn Dane’s hair as she stood before the marble headstone with her father’s name carved deep into it. She crouched down, tracing her fingers over the engraved letters — the ones she’d memorised by heart — and set a small bunch of white lilies on the soil. They were his favourites. He used to bring them home for her mother on Fridays, the same way he used to ruffle Tamsyn’s hair and call her his little warrior. It had been a year, but sometimes it still felt like yesterday. The hospital room. The goodbye she never really said. Tamsyn swallowed the lump in her throat and exhaled, slow and trembling. “Hi, Dad,” she whispered. “It’s me again.” The wind seemed to answer her, carrying the faint scent of rain and cut grass. She smiled faintly. Her father had always said she talked too much — that she’d probably end up a lawyer like Jacob or maybe take over her mother’s company someday. But these days, she barely spoke at all. Not since he left. Not since everything else fell apart. Her eyes drifted to the horizon, to where Ridgeview High sat behind the distant trees. She could almost see the grey rooftops from here — the hallways that still carried pieces of who she used to be. Before Daxon. Before heartbreak. Before silence. A shiver ran through her despite the warmth of the sun. She wasn’t ready. But maybe no one ever was. Tamsyn brushed her fingers against the headstone one last time. “I’m going back,” she murmured. “Back to Ridgeview. Back to everything I left behind.” Her voice broke at the end, but she didn’t hide it. The ache was part of her now, stitched into every breath. A single tear slipped down her cheek, catching the light before falling to the earth. She stood there a moment longer, letting the silence hold her. Then she straightened, wiped her eyes, and forced a small, determined smile. “Wish me luck, Dad,” she whispered. “I’m going to need it.” As she turned to leave, the wind stirred again — soft, like a hand brushing her shoulder — and she could almost imagine him there, smiling the way he always did. Behind her, the lilies swayed in the breeze, fragile and bright against the stone. And somewhere beyond the hills, Ridgeview waited.