Logan's breath came out shaky as he shifted his gaze from Douglas's grave to the one beside it. The wind grew still — as if the night itself knew whose name was carved on the stone.
Suzannah Blackwood.
His mother.
The words felt like a wound that never healed. Slowly, Logan sank to his knees, his black hoodie shadowing his face. His hand brushed the stone, his thumb tracing her name over and over as if by doing so he could summon her back — just once.
"Mom…" his voice cracked. "You… you never should've gone."
He swallowed hard, eyes burning.
"I left because of you, Mom. You wanted me to. You said I'd be free if I did. You told me not to look back."
He let out a broken laugh, hollow and quiet. "But look at me now — I still did. I still came back."
His hand rested flat against the stone, fingers trembling. For a moment, the cold marble seemed to soften under his touch, and he could almost feel her warmth again — her voice, her perfume, the sound of her gentle laugh.
FLASHBACK
