My Mother Killed Me For Her Stepdaughter novel Chapter 33

The cold morning light shone on the gravestone.

Ethan sat beside it, holding both rings in his hands, speaking to me through the night.

He talked about everything—from how we met, to our wedding, and every year of our marriage.

It was like a stream of consciousness, drifting wherever his memories took him.

Ethan's phone had long been smashed, his car abandoned in a ditch.

The world couldn't find us anymore.

He said he regretted it all.

A precious gem had willingly stayed by his side, yet he treated it like a stone, failing to cherish it.

He was the blind one all along.

I watched as Ethan knelt before my grave, clutching his face in anguish.

The coarse dirt, mixed with his searing tears, hardened into a sorrowful, bitter lump.

The prodigal son had finally returned, but I was no longer there to greet him.

After sunset, Ethan's people eventually found him.

As they tried to take him away, he looked back at me and said reluctantly,

"Claire, once I've taken care of everything, I'll come back to see you."

He left the rings by my grave, and my soul became bound to the cemetery.

When Ethan returned, he looked gaunt, his hair longer, his face covered in stubble.

By the next morning, someone found him lying there, cold and lifeless.

Dew gathered on his eyelashes, but his breathing had long since stopped.

The crowd buzzed with disbelief, shocked that Ethan Carter would meet such an end.

But I stayed curled beside him, as the noise faded away, leaving only the howling wind.

My soul began to dissolve.

I knew my time to leave had come.

In the final moment, as the warmth slipped away, I heard Ethan's voice.

"Claire, I'm here to be with you."