Stella curled into the couch, the darkness of the house swallowing her whole. She hadn't moved in hours, maybe even days. The house felt too big, too quiet without Elizabeth. The weight of grief pressed against her chest, heavy and unrelenting.
Her mind drifted, replaying memories like an old film, ones she couldn't turn off even if she wanted to.
"I have never felt more alive," she had told Simon once, her laughter mixing with the roar of the waves as they rode the jet ski.
Now, she felt dead.
The rain hadn't stopped for two days, mirroring the emptiness she carried inside her. Naomi, Blake, and Rocco had visited from time to time, checking in on her. She barely responded, barely noticed. But Mallory never came.
Not that I care, Stella thought bitterly.
She sat in silence, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing—until the shrill ring of her phone cut through the stillness. She glanced at the screen. Mallory.
Frowning, she picked up.
"Hey, I'm busy, can you go to the hospital and collect Grams' medical records?" Mallory's voice was clipped, but there was something hesitant in the way she spoke. "I'll get them from you this evening."
Then, a pause.
"If that's okay with you."
Stella didn't think. She just spoke. "No, I'll get them."
An hour later, she left for the hospital, the gray clouds stretching endlessly across the sky. The rain hadn't let up, but she didn't bother with an umbrella.
Inside the hospital, the air smelled of antiseptic and something else—something cold and sterile, a place where lives began and ended.
"Hi, I'm here to collect Ms. Elizabeth Adams' records," she said to the nurse at the front desk, her voice steady, betraying nothing.
The nurse gave a small nod before disappearing into the back. Stella waited, hands clenched at her sides. Minutes passed before the nurse returned, holding a stack of files.
"These are her records," the nurse said, handing them over. Then, she hesitated before picking up a separate file and placing it gently on top.
"This is the death certificate."
The words echoed in Stella's mind.
Death certificate.
Her fingers trembled as she took it. The paper felt too light, too insignificant to carry the weight of her grandmother's life.
She didn't say thank you. Didn't say anything. She just turned and walked away.
Outside, she got into her car and drove without thinking. The streets blurred past her, the rain distorting the lights around her. She didn't register where she was going until she pulled up to the cemetery.
The rain was coming down harder now, but she stepped out, letting it soak her dress, her hair, her skin. She walked toward Elizabeth's grave, her breath hitching as she took it in. The headstone was still new, the engraved letters dark against the pale stone. The roses they had left two days ago were already withering, their petals shriveled, lifeless.
For hours, she stood there, the rain pouring around her, thunder rumbling in the distance.
She didn't move.
Didn't speak.
She just stood, remembering.
"Time to get closure," Stella whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of the relentless rain.
She turned away from Elizabeth's grave, her soaked dress clinging to her as she walked back to the car. The engine hummed to life, and she drove, the wipers struggling against the downpour.
But she wasn't going home.
She found herself in front of another graveyard, one she hadn't visited in a long time. The air felt colder here, heavier, as if the past was reaching out to pull her back. Slowly, she stepped out, her shoes sinking slightly into the damp earth as she made her way to a familiar headstone.
Simon Winchester.
She knelt beside it, brushing her fingers over the engraved letters, tracing the name that still made her chest ache.
The world around her faded as she began to sing, her voice quiet yet steady.
"You'll love me at once,
The way you did once upon a dream."
It was their song, the one they had danced to countless times, his hands firm around her waist, his eyes burning with something she never quite understood until it was too late.
Her voice trembled, but she kept going, finishing the song in a whisper. Then, sighing, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the cold tombstone, lingering for just a second before pulling away.
"Goodbye, Simon," she murmured, her voice breaking.
She turned and walked back to the car, her body heavy with exhaustion.
By the time she reached home, the house was cloaked in darkness, just as she had left it. She hesitated at the door before flipping on the lights.
The sudden brightness made her wince. It had been days since she had seen this much light. The room looked untouched, frozen in time.
Her eyes landed on a small package resting on the table. A courier.
Frowning, she picked it up, tearing it open with numb fingers. Inside, there was a single laminated paper.
Her breath hitched.
It was another death certificate.
Simon's.
They had sent it late.
Her hands shook as she held it, staring at the cold, clinical words that confirmed what she already knew.
In just a month, she had held the death certificates of the only two people she had ever truly loved.
The irony was cruel.
Stella let out a shaky breath, her legs giving out as she sank onto the floor, the papers slipping from her grasp. The weight of grief settled over her like a storm that refused to pass.
Meanwhile, Milo stood outside Stella's apartment, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his shoulders tense. The night was cold, the rain from earlier still clinging to the air, making everything feel heavier. He exhaled slowly, watching the mist of his breath dissipate.
He had been standing there for too long. Hesitating.
In an hour, Nora would arrive in the city. That meant he had less than sixty minutes to make a choice—one he wasn't sure he was ready for.
His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes, and in an instant, the past came rushing back.
Flashes of memories. Promises made. Promises broken.
Regret.
Pain.
His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palm. When he opened his eyes, his gaze was no longer uncertain—it was dark, unreadable.
"You are meant to die, whether I like it or not," he thought bitterly.
With one last glance at the apartment, Milo turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing into the night.