A Cost Of Suicide

Alezha

The sun was setting behind the hills, casting long shadows over the graveyard. Aezhar stood alone by Alara’s gravestone, feeling a mix of grief and hope. The stone read: *Alara, Beloved of the Realm.*

Next to him was a young boy, about six or seven years old, holding his hand. The boy looked like Aezhar, but his eyes were bright and full of wonder.

“I’ve done it, Alara,” Aezhar said, his voice shaking. “I’ve built the new Empire of Rife, just like you wanted. It’s thriving, even better than I imagined.”

A sudden breeze picked up, rustling the leaves and making Aezhar’s cloak flutter. He spoke to the wind as if Alara could hear him. “Don’t be jealous,” he said with a sad smile. “I didn’t remarry. I adopted a son instead. Our son.”

He looked down at the boy. “I know the name is a bit odd, but I couldn’t think of anything better, so I named him Alezha.”

Alezha looked up at Aezhar. “I miss Mama,” he said in a small voice.

Aezhar knelt beside him, brushing a stray lock of hair from Alezha’s face. “I miss her too,” he said softly. “She would have loved you so much. Sometimes, Alezha dreams of her and calls her ‘Mommy.’ He misses her, just like I do. I’m trying to be the parent she would have been, to give you the love and care she would have.”

Aezhar looked at the gravestone and made a quiet promise. “I’m doing my best, Alara. I hope you see how the empire is growing, how Alezha carries a piece of you with him, and how we keep your love alive.”

The wind gently blew around them, bringing a sense of calm. Aezhar picked up Alezha and held him close. “Look at the sunset, Alezha,” he said, walking away from the grave. “It’s just like the ones we used to watch together. Your mother said the sunset was a promise of new beginnings. I believe that too.”

As they left the graveyard, the evening air felt lighter. Aezhar knew there would still be challenges ahead, but in his son’s loving gaze and Alara’s dreams, he found a reason to keep moving forward.