The drive is silent, but Kerry keeps her hand in mine. She doesn’t ask questions and doesn’t press for answers. She just gives me space. Before we get to our destination, we make a quick stop at a small flower shop. I walk in and pick out a bouquet of deep red roses and white lilies.

At a red light, I glance over at her. She’s tapping her finger lightly against her thigh—energy nervous but steady.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods, eyes flickering toward the bouquet of red roses and white lilies resting in my lap. She stares at them for a long moment before turning back to me.

“Are you okay, Vic?” she asks softly.

Kerry’s fidgety, stealing glances at me like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle I won’t let her see yet. But the truth is, I’m just as nervous.

I grip the steering wheel, inhaling deeply before I hum, “Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything else. She just reaches over and slides her fingers between mine, holding my hand.

I squeeze back and turn into the familiar iron gates, staring ahead. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” I assure her, keeping my eyes forward.

She tightens her grip. “I want to. I’m here for you just as you’ve been here for me.”

Kerry’s unwavering support further validates why we’re here. It confirms my choice to move forward. To open my life completely to someone who wasn’t a part of my past but is the foundation of my future. My choice to give my all to a woman who’s brought me peace after years of turmoil, who sees me, and loves me in a way that feels like home. Kerry’s a part of the life I never thought I’d have again, the life I never thought I’d want again. The life I’m thankful to have a second chance to experience again.

So, with my hand wrapped tightly around hers, I lead her to the cemetery.

Row by row, step by step, we reach them. Two tombstones, side by side. I swallow past the ache in my chest as I kneel down, setting the flowers between them.

Kerry stands beside me, reading the names.

Tiara Grimes — Extraordinary Woman, Loving Wife, Nurturing Mother.

Jeremiah Grimes — Prolific Man, Honorable Husband, Proud Father.

And then, she gasps. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Vic… their tombstones both say March 12th?”

I sit on their memorial bench, elbows on my knees, staring at the names, the lives that were taken too soon until Kerry eases down beside me, settling her hand on my thigh.

“What happened, Vic?”

With my eyes fixed on the names etched in stone, I take a deep breath and nod.