Faizal had finally been discharged from the hospital. Though his wounds were healing, the mental scars left behind were far deeper. His body ached from the stabbing, and the harsh treatment from the hospital staff lingered in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the mocking voices, the cold indifference of the people who had sworn an oath to help. Yet, he could not blame them. He was paying for his past.
Roselle had been by his side through it all, but now, she had her own responsibilities. Ever since she found a job at Tealive, she had been spending more time outside, coming home late from her shifts. He was proud of her for taking a step forward, yet a part of him feared being alone.
That morning, he sat at the kitchen table, staring at the untouched breakfast Roselle had prepared for him before leaving for work. The house was eerily silent. His parents had gone to visit relatives, leaving him completely alone for the first time since the incident. He thought about turning on the TV, but what was the point? Nothing seemed to interest him anymore. The past clung to him like a heavy chain, refusing to let go.
Meanwhile, at Tealive, Roselle was adjusting to her new job. The smell of freshly brewed tea filled the air, and the rhythmic sound of the blender mixing up drinks gave her a sense of peace. She liked the distraction, the routine. It kept her from thinking too much. Her co-workers were friendly, but she had yet to form any deep bonds with them.
“Roselle, can you handle the front for a bit? I need to check the inventory,” her manager asked.
“Of course,” she replied, forcing a smile.
As she took orders and prepared drinks, her mind occasionally drifted back to her father. She didn’t know how to feel about him anymore. She had saved his life, but that didn’t erase the years of hurt. It was complicated.
Later that evening, she returned home, exhausted. Faizal was still at the table, the breakfast still untouched. Roselle sighed.
“You didn’t eat?” she asked, walking over.
“I wasn’t hungry.” His voice was hollow, lifeless.
She frowned but didn’t push him. Instead, she sat down across from him. “I started learning how to make drinks faster today. It was fun, actually.”
Faizal nodded slowly. “That’s good.”
The conversation died there. Roselle sighed again, standing up to warm up some food for him. She wouldn’t force him to eat, but she couldn’t ignore the way he seemed to be slipping further into himself.
As she set the plate in front of him, she hesitated before speaking again. “Dad, you know… you can’t just stop living. You were given another chance. You should try to do something with it.”
Faizal let out a heavy breath. “I don’t know how, Roselle. I don’t even know where to begin.”
She looked at him for a long moment before replying, “Then start by eating.”
For the first time in days, Faizal actually picked up his spoon and ate something.
"I understand the guilt you're having. I, too, have alot of anger withstanding beneath me. However, I need you to keep living dad. I need you. I trust you, I know you're trying to change and I know you can do it." 
With the reassurance given, Roselle held her father's hand. He couldn't help but weep in silence, looking at the pure heart his daughter is holding. She resembled Katelyn, from the kindness and compassion they hold to their looks. Everything reminded him of Katelyn.
"Roselle, I'll be out for a few hours okay?"
Roselle looked at her father, smiling at him as she nodded. "And I'll be here, call me if anything happens okay dad?". Her father only smiled, showing reassurance that everything would be just fine.
_______
As he went out, putting on a mask and a hat to avoid critism. He found himself walking by the graveyard. This is it, the first time he had ever visited this place. Hearts unfolded, his breathing's became heavy as he stepped inside. Looking for his wife's grave, finally after a few walks, there it stood, his wife's grave.
It was filled with red roses, healthy green grasses on top. It looked like someone had kept the grave in good care, the flowers looked fresh. He brushed off the few dirts off his wife's tomb. 
"Love.. I wished that we could go back jn time. I regretted my action. But regret is no longer in use. I don't know what happened that night, even when I was in prison, I never fully understand how I could've gotten drunk.." He said, weeping.
"You were my first love, now you're my last. Like a bloomed rose suddenly withering due to the owner's negligence. I'm sorry." He yield. He sat by his wife's grave, speaking to it and telling stories. Like how hard life is treating him, how everyone's turning their back on him.
Until then, he started visiting his wife and bringing rose petals. Roselle only watched, she knew that regrets were too late as the life had already been taken. Just a thought passes by her. What had actually happened at that time?