When he finished speaking, Philip turned the wheel and drove straight toward Eternal Peace Cemetery.
This place was tucked far away from everything, and plots here came dirt cheap.
Following the plot number the police had given him, he searched for my grave.
At last, he froze mid-step in front of a tiny, unremarkable headstone shoved into the darkest, most forgotten corner of the whole cemetery.
There was no photo carved into the stone, only one short, simple line: Sophia (Mar. 6, 1995 – Dec. 25, 2025) Rest in peace.
The dates matched my birth and death perfectly.
It was so stark and blank it was almost heartbreakingly lonely.
Philip sat there the entire night, talking to me through the cold dark until dawn broke.
After that, he locked himself away in that run-down little rental ap
