Julian Grey tightened his grip on the steering wheel as his sleek black car pulled up to the cemetery gates. The iron bars, rusted but still imposing, framed the somber grounds beyond. It had taken years to summon the courage to return, but here he was, a single white rose on the passenger seat beside him.
He stepped out, the chill of the evening air biting through his tailored coat. The gravel crunched under his polished shoes as he walked up the winding path, his steps heavy with memories.
The name Edward Grey came into view, etched in cold marble. It stood proud yet forlorn, surrounded by an overgrowth of weeds Julian couldn’t remember being there.
Julian knelt, brushing the weeds aside with a brusque efficiency. He placed the white rose carefully at the grave’s base and stayed still
