I was halfway through my shift at the diner when my phone buzzed in my apron pocket. The lunch rush was loud and chaotic—plates clattering, orders being shouted—but everything around me went quiet the moment I saw the caller ID. Ethan’s middle school. Schools never call in the middle of the day unless something’s wrong. My stomach dropped as I answered, my hands already trembling. “Hello?” A deep, calm voice spoke on the other end. “Ma’am, this is Principal Dawson. We need you to come to the school immediately. There’s

The cemetery was eerily quiet that afternoon — the wind whispering through the old oak trees, carrying the scent of rain and fallen leaves. My shoes crunched over the damp gravel as I walked toward my husband’s grave, clutching a small bouquet of roses. Four months. That’s how long it had been since I last came here. I’d buried Tom in early summer, but I couldn’t bring myself to return — not because I’d forgotten him, but because of the storm of emotions I wasn’t ready to face. Grief, yes.