Our Beautiful Constellation

WHAT IF

Our Beautiful Constellation

Hyacinth's POV

Rest In Peace

Cephues Anastasia Salvatore

Date of Death: December 12 20XX

Date of Birth: January 17 20XX

"At least I die happy"

I stood solemnly before my wife's tombstone. The inscriptions on her headstone drew my gaze, each word reverberating with disbelief, as if the quotes etched into the stone were meant for someone else, someone distant and unreal.

The cemetery was bathed in a stark, unforgiving light, the sun casting elongated shadows that seemed to stretch forever.

A cold breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the faint, haunting scent of pine, and rustling the leaves in a melancholic symphony.

The few people present were dispersed among the graves, each absorbed in their own silent reveries and personal grief.

I lingered there, allowing the stillness to permeate my being, amplifying the void left by her absence.

The cemetery's serene atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the tempest raging within me.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I sought solace in the tranquility around me.

"You're so stupid, you know? Too fucking stupid... But I love your stupidity. I fell in love with you and your stupidity and I hope you know that." I whispered to myself as I stared intently at the tombstone, my breath mingling with the cool air of the graveyard.

My world stopped the moment she left this world.

She sacrificed her life for the safety of others, a gesture I could only make for her but not for anyone else.

Her absence is something I wish not to remember, a memory I refuse to engrave in my mind. Even now, I cannot accept what has happened.

The words I spoke, and those shared by her parents and loved ones during the eulogy, are what I hope she heard. In those words, one can truly see and feel who the people were that she cherished.

___

11 months ago

In this memorial, right at the front and center, lay the coffin of my beloved. Heavy though it was on my heart, I faced it, tears blurring my vision.

The events happened so swiftly, her departure was so sudden, and the pain of her absence is still raw beside me.

"We will now begin the eulogy. First, we have her biological mother... Mrs. Samantha Baek," the priest announced. As he called Tia Sam, her knees seemed weak, but she walked to the front and faced the microphone.

Her eyes were swollen, her face flushed, and the whites of her eyes were red.

"I... I can't do this..." She attempted to speak but couldn't manage it. Her whisper was picked up by the microphone as she hid her face in Tia Jezreel's arm, as if struck by a calamity.