Destiny's Revival

Chapter 1 Eternal Roses

How long have I been here? The green-eyed girl wondered as she lay on the soft grass, staring up at the sky. The summer breeze rustled the leaves above, but she felt nothing. Far off, birds flew in graceful arcs, their calls distant and unclear, much like the memories she once had. She wasn't sure how long she had been here—time seemed to pass differently now.

The cemetery was quiet, its rows of headstones standing solemnly under the afternoon sun. She was alone, surrounded only by the graves of the dead. But then, she wasn't really alone. She was one of them.

A faint sound of footsteps broke the silence, drawing her attention. She sat up, her form barely disturbing the blades of grass beneath her. An old woman approached slowly, her back slightly bent with age. In her frail hands, she carried a bouquet of red roses, the vibrant petals a splash of color in the otherwise muted world.

The woman came often, always to the same grave—a weathered stone just a few feet away from the girl's resting place. It was where her husband was buried, a man who had passed many years before. The girl watched as the woman carefully placed the roses at the base of the headstone, her fingers lingering on the rough surface as she whispered to her late husband.

The girl had seen this scene unfold countless times, yet each time it moved her. The old woman spoke of her life, of their children and grandchildren, of the loneliness she felt now that he was gone. Tears glistened in her eyes as she shared stories only he would understand. After some time, she would sigh, kiss her fingers, and press them to the cold stone, saying goodbye until her next visit.

How long had the girl observed this? She had lost track. The old woman always returned, carrying with her the same sorrow, the same love. It was a love that had outlasted death, a love that brought her back to this place again and again.

The girl sighed softly, her voice barely more than a whisper in the wind. The man had been so fortunate to have someone who loved him so deeply, even after he was gone. The girl wished she had known that kind of love in life, but it was too late for her to regret it now. She had never loved anyone but her family, and even those memories were fading, slipping away like sand through her fingers.

As the old woman slowly made her way back down the path, the girl watched her go, a faint smile on her lips. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the cemetery, but the girl didn't move. She lay back down on the grass, her green eyes closing as the world around her dimmed. This was her home now, a place where the living seldom lingered but where memories lived on. And though she was no longer part of the world she once knew, she found comfort in the enduring love she witnessed, day after day, from the other side.

Footsteps echoed through the quiet cemetery once more, and the girl immediately recognized them. This wasn't the first time she had seen the young man approaching. He had become a familiar presence in this lonely place, his visits a small comfort in her otherwise isolated existence.

He was tall and handsome, with striking black hair that contrasted sharply with his pale skin. His deep-set eyes were a piercing shade of blue, filled with an intensity that always made her pause. There was something both comforting and sorrowful in his gaze as he walked toward the row of graves.

He carried five bouquets of white roses, just as he always did. The girl watched closely, already knowing his routine. He wore a simple black suit, well-tailored and neat, as if he were attending a solemn event. His presence commanded attention, yet he moved with a quiet grace, careful not to disturb the stillness around him.

First, he knelt by her parents' graves, placing a bouquet on each. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as he lingered for a moment before moving on to her sisters' graves. The girl felt a strange warmth in her chest as she watched him. Each time he visited, she found herself wondering more about him. Who was he? Why did he come here so often, always with the same white roses?