Dear Ex Wife Please take me back

ATHEN

"Hi mum, Dad."

The words leave my mouth barely above a whisper as I crouch beside the two headstones, brushing away the dried leaves clinging to their bases.

I was given a leave day so I could visit my parents' grave. for their memorial I came here every year and sadly this is the first time I've visited with good news.

Tears blur my vision as I trace my fingers over the engraved names

Elena and Marcus Dawson

My parents.

My everything.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice cracking like brittle glass. "I should've come sooner."

The guilt coils tighter in my chest, like a vice. Last year, I couldn't bring myself to step foot here.

I was drowning in pain, in fear, in the crushing weight of being told I had killed my

own son.

"Carry on the legacy." Mum always said to me, but how can I when I can barely hold myself together?noveldrama

Every night, as I cried myself to sleep, I could hear Dad's voice in my head, stern but kind, telling me to stand tall. I could see Mum's soft smile, always believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself.

But they aren't here.

I'm so alone.

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the trees as if they're responding. My arms wrap around myself as I kneel there, broken and small in the cemetery

"I, uh... I scrubbed in today," I say, forcing a small smile as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "It was a tough one. Thoracic. Complicated. But I... I did well."

My voice cracks at the end, and I bite my lip, shaking my head with a soft laugh. "You'd be proud," I add, staring at the names carved in stone. "I know you would." "I just wish you were here to hug me." I choke. "I wish I could come home and tell you everything. I wish I wasn't always walking around pretending I'm fine when inside I'm..." My words trail off, swallowed by the ache in my chest.

A tear slips down my cheek, then another. I don't bother wiping them away. They fall freely now, soaking into the collar of my coat, tracing the curve of my chin.

"I miss you. God, I miss you both so much."

The breeze brushes past me, soft like fingers through hair, and for a second, almost believe it's my mum's hand on my shoulder. Or Dad standing beside me, arms crossed, beaming with that quiet pride he always had whenever I won a science fair or aced an exam.

"I still remember how you both used to freak out every time I so much as grazed my knee," I say, my voice trembling. "And now... now I hold hearts in my hands, and stitch lives back together. You'd probably faint."

A laugh escapes me, watery and broken. My knees press into the cold grass as I

sit properly, folding my legs under me. My fingers trace the letters of their names like I'm trying to memorize them again.

"I miss you."

"I miss everything," I whisper. "Your voices. Your hugs. The way Dad used to hum when he cooked. The way Mum always knew when I was lying... even when I didn't know myself."

Tears spill over, warm and angry.

I press a hand to my mouth to muffle the sob, curling into myself slightly. "Sometimes, I do all these incredible things, and I look around, waiting for someone to tell. But you're not here. You're not anywhere. And it just hurts.

"I hope you see me. Wherever you are. I hope you see everything."

I close my eyes for a moment, letting the silence wrap around me.

"I'm better now. So, there is no need to worry about me. I love you guys so much."

When I finally stand, brushing off my jeans, my voice is low, but my chest feels lighter.

"I'll come again soon," I promise. "And next time... I'll tell you more. Everything. Even the messy stuff."

I lean down and press a kiss to each headstone.

As I turn to leave, the quiet crunch of gravel under shoes draws my attention.

"Athena," a voice calls out low and unfamilia

I freeze mid-step, my heart giving a small jolt as I spin around.

An older man stands a few paces away, dressed in a worn trench coat, hands tucked deep in his pockets His silver-streaked hair and weathered face give him the look of someone who has seen more than his share of life.

He looks to be in his sixties, maybe older, but his posture is steady, almost military-like.

My brows draw together. "I'm sorry, do I... know you?"

The man doesn't answer the question. He simply looks at me, eyes solemn. "Come with me."

I blink, stepping back instinctively. "What? No. I'm not just going to follow some stranger-"

"I'm not a stranger to your parents," he interrupts gently but firmly. "Elena and Marcus gave me a task. A promise, actually. Something I was meant to give you ten years after they passed."