Liam's POV
The sound of the casket wheels against the gravel felt like thunder in my chest.
Everything was too quiet.
No birds. No breeze. Just the dull murmur of footsteps behind me and the sound of fabric brushing against itself as people followed slowly. Each person held something: a rose, a prayer, a heavy silence. I held nothing. I didn't deserve to.
The cemetery was tucked away behind the church, surrounded by trees that stood like mourners themselves, tall and still. The grave was already dug, six feet deep and waiting. Too final. Too cruel.
I stood at the edge, a few feet behind Nick and Kaylee. Neither of them looked at me. I didn't expect them to.
Zara's mother stood at the front, face pale and tear-stained. Her father held her trembling hand, but he looked like a shell—like he hadn't slept in days. No parent should have to bury their child.
And I… I should've been buried in her place.
The casket was carried gently—like it could still feel pain. Like she could feel pain. But she couldn't. Not anymore.
Because I broke her.
When they lowered it into the earth, the sound of the straps creaking echoed through my skull. I saw the white lid dip slowly below ground level, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely.
Gone.
My legs buckled, but I didn't fall. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.
People stepped forward one by one, dropping roses into the grave. Each flower was a farewell, a piece of closure.
Kaylee went next. She paused before she let go of the rose, tears trailing down her cheeks.
Nick stood like a soldier, jaw clenched tight, refusing to cry. But I could tell by the way his hands trembled at his sides. He dropped the rose, but I knew what he really wanted to drop in there was me.
I deserved it.
When it was my turn, I didn't move.
I couldn't.
My feet felt rooted to the spot, like the earth knew I didn't belong beside her now. I had loved her—God, I had loved her—but I never showed it. I only knew how to hide, how to lie, how to be what everyone else expected. And she paid the price.
Still, I forced myself forward.
I looked down into the grave, at the white lid now partly dusted with rose petals. The last thing I had left of her was a memory. Her voice, her laugh, the way she looked at me before everything shattered.
"I should've stopped it," I whispered under my breath. "I should've protected you. I should've chosen you."
Someone coughed behind me. I didn't turn.
I dropped a single lily—not a rose—into the grave. It was the flower she said she actually liked when we passed a flower shop once. She'd said it reminded her of quiet and rebirth. I held onto that, like maybe it meant she was at peace now.
But I wasn't.
As the shovels came next, scooping dirt and tossing it over the casket, the finality of it hit me like a bullet to the chest.
Thud.
Another scoop.
Thud.
And another.
The sound of dirt hitting the wood was unbearable. I wanted to scream. To crawl into that grave and take her place. To rewind time to that stupid night—to prom—and do everything differently.
But it was too late.
She was gone.
And no amount of regret, no ocean of apologies, would ever bring her back.
The last scoop of dirt fell. The grave was filled. A headstone stood already in place, carved too quickly, too cruelly:
Zara Lewis Carter.
2007 – 2025
"Loved deeply. Lost too soon."
I stared at her name until it blurred.
Then I turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last.
I didn't go back to the car. I didn't speak to anyone. I didn't even feel the rain start as it began to fall. Let it soak me. Let it drown me. It still wouldn't wash away what I'd done.
I didn't lose her.
I destroyed her.
And now, I'd carry that weight for the rest of my life.