Chapter 8
The day of the cremation was overcast
Frederick stood outside the chapel in a black suit, his eyes bloodshot after nights without sleep
Beatrice saw him approaching and deliberately turned her back
He approached, voice rasping. “Grandmother…”
“Don’t.” She wiped tears angrily. “You are no grandson of mine.”
His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white. “Please,let me see her one last time.”
“See her?” She choked on a sob. “You ignored her alive-what good is seeing her now?”
He swallowed hard. “I need… to apologize.”
“Apologize?” She laughed bitterly. “Will she hear you? Do you think sorry fixes anything?”
He stayed silent, gripping the diary until his hands shook.
An attendant approached quietly. “We’re ready.”
Beatrice leaned on her aide, walking slowly inside. Frederick followed,every step weighted as if dragging
stones
In the viewing room, Evelyn lay beneath a white sheet He halted at the threshold, unable to enter.
Beatrice lifted a corner of the cloth, weeping uncontrollably. “Evelyn… I failed you. This is all my fault..”
Frederick stared at my sunken face-sharp cheekbones, cracked lips drained of color,remembering our first
meeting three years earlier: me with a ponytail and shy dimples.
You’re Evelyn? he’d asked coldly.
Yes… Grandmother said,said I should marry you.
I refuse.
I know… but she insisted…
Pressed into marriage, he’d ignored me on our wedding night, leaving me standing alone until dawn.
A tear slid down his cheek. He stepped forward, kneeling beside me.
“Evelyn…” His hand hovered, then drew back. “I… treated you terribly.”
No response came.
He grasped my stiff, icy hand. “You always wanted to watch a movie together. I never agreed.”
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Voice breaking, “Wanted to visit the ocean,I said no time. Asked me to cook,I laughed at you Evelyn, I gave
you nothing.”
Tears fell onto my still fingers. “Every call annoyed me. You said I miss you,l called you crazy. Said you were
hurting,I told you to call an ambulance.”
He looked at my still features, trembling. “That last call… you were truly suffering, weren’t you? Burning up,
alone on the floor and I hung up on you.”
Quiet filled the room except for Beatrice’s muffled cries.
Frederick opened the diary to its final page, pressing it into my palm. “You wrote don’t feel guilty,how can I
not? Evelyn, why were you so foolish?”
An attendant murmured, “Sir, we must begin.”
“Wait.” He wiped his face, retrieving the wedding band from his pocket,the one she’d worn till the end.
Shaking, he struggled to slide it onto my thin finger, trying repeatedly until it stayed.
“You never wanted to take it off,” he whispered, holding my hand. “Keep it on forever.”
Rising, he bent and kissed my forehead gently. “Next life, Evelyn… don’t meet someone like me.”
At the door, he paused, glancing back one last time.
I lay silent,no more calls, no waiting up, no tearful questions.
Covering his face, his shoulders shook. Beatrice watched him, eyes full of disappointment.
“Leave,” she rasped. “Don’t visit me again.”
He opened his mouth but said nothing, turning to walk away, posture stooped as if aged decades.
The crematorium door sealed shut. Frederick stood outside listening to the low hum of the furnace, eyes
squeezed shut, tears streaking his face.
Evelyn. My Evelyn. Gone.
An hour later, an attendant presented the urn. Frederick cradled it-so light it felt empty, yet it crushed his
lungs.
Beatrice reached for it. He stepped back. “Let me hold her… just a while longer.”
She wept. “Where was all this devotion before?”
He sank to his knees, curling around the urn.
“I didn’t know… truly didn’t know…”
Holding the small box tightly, he repeated, “Evelyn… I’m sorry… I’m sorry..”
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Over and over-into ears that would never hear
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