The morning wind in the cemetery was fierce, whipping branches into a frenzy. The air was thick with dampness, and the leaves, still wet with pre-dawn mist, occasionally dripped onto the tombstone.
Nancy Warner stared at the photograph on the tombstone, not saying a word. Tears streamed down her cheeks and fell to the ground, her heart aching as if pierced by a needle.
After a long while, she stroked the photograph, her fingertips trembling as she spoke her first words. "Liam Lowell... Nancy Warner isn't happy."
A long, long time ago, when Nancy Warner couldn't escape her mother's control, he had said, "Nancy, whenever you're unhappy, I'll show up and cheer you up."
She wanted him to cheer her up now.
The only answer was the biting, ice-cold wind.
So many people had told her to forget him, but she didn't want to. She couldn't. To her, Liam Lowell wasn't a thorn in her heart. It couldn't be pulled out, or she would die.
