Janet changed into a simple outfit and left the house. She hailed a taxi and headed straight to the cemetery on the outskirts of the city.
It had been days since she last visited Cornelia. Somehow, the path felt colder now… more desolate.
Clutching her coat tighter around her body, Janet stepped carefully through the fallen yellow leaves, making her way up the stone steps toward the heart of the graveyard. The air was crisp, silent, and heavy with memories.
From a distance, she saw a figure standing in front of Cornelia's grave—stooped, aged, and fragile.
Harold.
Her breath caught for a moment.
She remembered the last time she came here… the bouquet of lilies. So it had been him.
He must have loved Cornelia, after all.
