Page 134 of Symphony for Lies

I shrugged. “I don’t regret it.”

Silence stretched between us before he finally spoke again, “I left school because I lost my daughter,” he admitted, nodding toward a gravestone. “Her life was cut short. You remind me of her. She was also your age.”

A photograph of a young girl, no older than seven, was embedded in the stone.

“Death comes so suddenly,” he murmured.

I nodded.

Yes. It did.

Mr. Watson’s gaze remained locked on the grave.“You’re never ready for it.” His voice was calm, but a heavy emotion flickered in his eyes.“I left town after she passed, but I always come back. For her.”

His expression darkened. “My ex-wife.”

I followed his gaze, and the name on the gravestone made my stomach clench.

“I only arrived this morning. I didn’t even know she was gone until yesterday.” A hollow breath left his lips.“She called me last week… and now, she’s dead.”

The weight of his words settled between us. His fingers traced the inscription slowly, searching for something beneath the smooth stone.

“Death is merciless.”

I nodded again.

Yes. It was.

“But sometimes, perhaps, it offers something else. A new beginning. A new purpose.”

A new beginning. I wasn’t sure if I could believe that. Not at the moment.

“Sometimes, it’s what pushes us forward. Or it breaks us completely.”

Without another word, he sank to the ground beside his daughter’s grave. His fingers trailed over the stone.

He didn’t look lost or angry.Just… tired. Worn down by everything life had taken from him.

“Death can be terrifying.”

Yes. I knew that fear. I could feel it crushing, suffocating, and threatening to pull me under.

I took a step back. “My deepest condolences, Mr. Watson.”

He nodded in a silent acknowledgment.

I turned and walked away.

Each step felt heavier than the last. But as I left the cemetery, one thought remained. A purpose, a new beginning. Do I have the courage?

“Amelia.”

A car was parked near the gate, and Spencer stood beside it, holding a bouquet of white flowers.“My deepest condolences.”

He held out the flowers, and my fingers trembled as I accepted them, even as warmth radiated in my chest at his small gesture.

“Thank you.”

Spencer had checked in on me throughout the past few months, quietly offering support. He had become an anchor, a friend, someone who was simply there.

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