Another dark, wilted petal was plucked from one of the flowers by an especially strong gust of wind. She watched the petal drift down to the ground, letting out a soft sigh. She examined the rest small bundle of purple flowers, which she held limply in her hand, and found that although it had lost a couple of petals on the way here, they still looked pretty.

She kept her head down, focusing her attention on the gravel her feet kicked up as she made her way down the path. Despite the beautiful weather, or maybe because of it, there was no one around; the only sounds surrounding her were the whistle of the wind and the swaying of trees in the wind. It was calming, maybe a little bit eerie, and most certainly nerve-wracking.

She kept checking over her shoulder, startling at every new noise, just in case. However, within her line of sight, there were no noises from anything other than nature, there were no cars other than hers, no footsteps other than hers– nothing other than her.

She knew the chances of running into anyone were very low, but still, her heart was beating faster at the small risk.

Another few petals fell when a cool breeze passed by. It fanned against the warmth of her cheeks and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. She was grateful that her hair had grown out again; the bangs and shorter hair had been fun, and certainly helped her endure the California heat, but North Carolina summers are much more mild and the extra warmth wasn't minded on windy days like today.

She came upon the familiar, large oak tree, which had grown green and lush. It looked almost exactly as it did the last time that she had seen it. It stood out from the other trees around; it was much taller, and older. It was the first to lose its leaves in autumn, and the first to bloom once again in the spring.

Because it was so prominent and so close by, they had always used it as a benchmark.

Just before the oak tree, she abandoned the gravel pathway, nearly stumbling upon one of the long out-reaching roots of the tree. She kept her head as she maneuvered her way through the land, the soles of her shoes deep in the overgrown grass.

Although she knew the way perfectly well, she was in no rush to get there today. In the back of her mind she knew the longer she was here, the greater her chances were of running into someone. And although that terrified her, and she was certain she did not want to run into anyone, she couldn't help the thrill she felt at the prospect of it.

Along her way, she admired the surroundings. It had been a long time since she had come here, and every time she had, it was solely for one purpose.

The place in its entirety was beautiful. Far ahead of her, there was a large fountain, surrounded by tall, neatly-trimmed hedges. There were more trees scattered around as well, most of them much smaller than the oak, most either fully in-bloom with pink or white flowers.

The closer she got to where she was going, the slower she paced herself. Her fingers felt shaky around the small bouquet of flowers, and butterflies swarmed her stomach. She slowed down her pace even more, her eyes returning to the ground.

She admired different arrays of flowers, and pausing if an odd or rare item sparked her curiosity. There was an occasional photograph or letter, and though it intrigued her, she didn't linger too long in any one spot. She took note of the way that trails of grass were pressed down into the ground, whereas other patches stood straight; unbothered and untouched; she guessed it was a good measure of where people had been recently.

She knew she was stalling. The closer she got, the greater the urge to pause, to keep admiring her surroundings, to take more time. Anything to take more time.

The anxiety was suffocating, now. She wasn't completely certain why she even felt so nervous about getting there. There was nothing wrong with what she was doing, in fact her mother smiled when she mentioned where she was going. Most of the anxiety, she assumed, had to come from what today was, and what the implications of today meant.

It wasn't until she recognized where she was, recognized that she had drawn close, that she lifted her head up from the ground. And maybe then, maybe in that exact moment, she realized that it wasn't anxiety that had been upsetting her stomach. No, it was a warning. A warning she chose to ignore.

There he was. Directly in front of her.

He had his back to her, and his head was bent. It was probable, considering he didn't so much as fidget, that he didn't hear her approaching, and wasn't aware of her presence. She came to a full stop as she assessed.

She didn't need to see his face to know exactly who it was. She didn't need to study his height, or the width of his shoulders, or see into his eyes. No, rationality was not needed. Her heart, pounding in her chest almost as though trying to escape, identified the figure long before her brain did. She felt it against her rib cage, a steady rhythm of beats, as if to emphasize that her heart was simply beating for him, and him alone.

Unconsciously, she drew back. She hadn't fully retreated, but she was certainly thinking of turning around and leaving before it was too late, before he could notice her.

The familiar train of thought came back. The one that she had when she was driving here, and when she had bought the flowers, and when she first woke up. Bouncing around the walls of her head was the same thought, over and over again: maybe she shouldn't have come back.

And not as in just come back here, specifically. Maybe she shouldn't have come back at all. Hell, she had avoided coming back for nearly an entire year, and there was no reason to stop now. At Thanksgiving break, she had locked herself away in the confines of her dorm to 'study for exams' (which really was four days of her binge-watching Bake-Off in her pajamas). Come December break, her parents had surprised her by flying out to see her and spend the holiday in California. And in April, she gave the lame excuse that all the flights the week of her break were already fully booked. Everyone had known she was lying through her teeth, but no one called her out on it.

And yet, despite all the avoidance, this was the first place she decided to go to since getting off the plane yesterday afternoon. She hadn't even seen her friends yet, who had all come home already and were relentless in messaging her to text as soon as she was home.

But she was here. Not there, and not in California either.

So turning back now would be a waste of her time. In fact, she had flown back home early especially for this– to be here today. She made the choice to ditch the end-of-school girls trip to Calabasas to be here, and that should not be wasted. Turning back now would be stupid. And wrong. Not doing this just because she was scared would be wrong.

Slowly, cautiously, she came behind the man, still not sure how to best approach the situation. She remained silent when he let out a soft sniffle, and brought a hand out from his pocket and used his wrist to wipe under his nose. He still made no outward sign of noticing her presence. She wondered how long he had been here; how long he had been lost within his own head; how long he had been staring at the stone in front of him.

She glanced down at the violet in her hand. Quietly, she stepped forward, moving around him, and gently placed the flower on the ground, just in front of the tombstone engraved with the name and words that she had memorized:

Katherine Violet Daniels

Our Only Sunshine.

January 18, 2008 - June 7, 2021

You'll Never Know Just How Much We Love You.

She felt a pair of eyes on her as she leaned away from the tombstone, pulling herself up straight. She turned to face him, and it took more courage than she felt it should to bring her gaze up to his face, almost melting when their eyes met.

"Hi, Carson," she breathed out, voice shaky and uncertain.

His face held a mixture of expressions. He looked calm, confused, possibly curious. More than all of that, he almost looked relieved. "Hi, Princess."

And her heart beat even faster at those two simple words. Those two simple words that, just a little more than two years or so ago, would have driven her mad. Now, it made her face flush, and her eyes soften, and her skin go cold, and her heart pound.

Her heart was pounding as though it was trying to escape her chest, and run directly to him.

And maybe it would.

The End