The field of flowers, the serene lake, and the soft twilight vanished in an instant.

She blinked, and the tranquil landscape was replaced by a stark, unfamiliar environment.

She found herself standing in front of her mother's tomb, clutching a bouquet of white roses.

The solemnity of the place seeped into her bones, and she felt the weight of her grief pressing down on her.

Her face was a canvas of sorrow, but her eyes were empty, a reflection of the profound loss that had left her feeling hollow.

She placed the bouquet gently on the cold stone of the grave, the flowers a stark contrast against the gray marble.

Sinking to the ground, she sat beside the tomb, her posture a mix of resignation and yearning.

A small, wistful smile played at her lips, but her eyes were blurred with tears, which spilled over and traced damp lines down her cheeks.

The silence of the cemetery was punctuated only by her quiet, broken words as if she were trying to bridge the gap between this world and the one her mother had departed to.

"You know, Mom," she began, her voice trembling,

"Since you left me, everything is colourless. Everything feels strange. I want to laugh, but I can't. I want to smile, but I can't. It feels like someone is cutting my heart every second. I can't sleep at night because of this anxiety and the panic attacks. Whenever I close my eyes, your face, filled with blood, haunts me." Her voice cracked, and she sobbed, her grief spilling out as if she were a child, seeking comfort from a parent.

"Home isn’t home anymore. It's just a house that I live in." Her breath hitched as she tried to steady herself, struggling to breathe through her sobs.

The pain was so raw, so intense that it was hard for her to find any semblance of peace.

Just then, a bottle of water appeared in her line of sight.

She looked up, and through her blurred vision, she saw a man standing a few feet away.

He was strikingly handsome, but at that moment, she was too engulfed in her sorrow to appreciate his features.

His presence felt like an intrusion, but there was kindness in his eyes that seemed to cut through her despair.

"Take it, and don’t cry," the man said gently, his voice carrying an undertone of empathy.

"The one who has to go will go."

"I do not need your sympathy. Go away from here," she responded curtly, her voice laced with frustration.

She was not in the mood for comfort, not from a stranger, and certainly not in a moment so deeply personal.

"It’s okay," he replied, his tone understanding and soft.

"I understand how it feels, but don’t lose yourself. She wouldn’t be happy if she knew you were crying so hard." He extended his hand, pressing the bottle of water into her trembling grip.

"You have to die a few times before you really live," he added, his words enigmatic but somehow reassuring.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her to process his unexpected appearance and cryptic advice.

She stared blankly at the spot where he had disappeared, the bottle of water now a tangible object in her hand.

The encounter was surreal, and she was left with a strange mix of confusion and reflection.

The man's words, though cryptic, seemed to linger in the air, their meaning just out of reach but nonetheless resonant.

As the twilight deepened, the cemetery's silence enveloped her once more.

She glanced at the bouquet of white roses, still fresh against the gray of her mother’s tomb, and felt a flicker of connection to the past she had been desperately clinging to.

The stranger's presence had been an unexpected interlude, a brief but poignant reminder that even in her profound sorrow, life continued to offer moments of interaction and insight.

With a weary sigh, she slowly rose to her feet, the bottle of water clutched in her hand.

She took one last, lingering look at her mother's resting place, then turned to leave the cemetery.

The evening sky, now darkening to deep blue, mirrored the somberness she felt inside, but there was a subtle shift in her perspective.

The encounter with the stranger had not erased her pain, but it had introduced a new layer to her grief—a reminder that even in the darkest moments, unexpected encounters could offer new paths for understanding and healing.

As she walked away, her steps were measured but not aimless.

The world beyond the cemetery awaited her, and though the journey ahead was still fraught with heartache, she felt a tentative sense of hope.

The strange comfort offered by the man, with his enigmatic words and compassionate gesture, had sparked a faint glimmer of resilience within her—a small, yet significant shift in the ongoing process of navigating her loss.

Suddenly, everything turned black. She could hear faint voices around her, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't open her eyes.

The comforting weight of the bottle of water slipped from her hand, and a profound silence engulfed her, punctuated only by distant, indistinct sounds.

The boundary between the world she knew and the darkness that now surrounded her seemed to blur, leaving her in a disorienting, in-between space.

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If you can't change the man,

Change the man.
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Hi everyone
Hope you liked today's chapter.