(Iris's POV)
The day feels heavy, a weight I can’t shake off no matter how hard I try. It’s the last day—the final goodbye. I can already feel the heaviness in my chest, the sting of the reality that Eli is really gone.
I stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. My face looks pale, my eyes red and swollen from the tears. I don’t want to look like this—not today. I want to be strong, for him. But every time I think of him, of his smile, of his laugh, I feel like I’m crumbling all over again.
I pull myself together as best as I can. I slip into the black dress I’ve set aside for today. It’s not fancy, but it’s simple and respectful. As I walk toward the door, I hear Liana call from the other room.
"Iris, are you ready?" she asks gently.
I take a deep breath before answering. "I think so."
I glance once more at the apartment that’s felt like home to both Eli and me. It’s still filled with his things—his art, his words, his laughter—and for a moment, it feels like he’s just out of reach. Maybe he’s still in here somewhere, in the sketches on the walls, in the air that feels too empty without him.
Liana comes over to my side and gives me a reassuring smile. "You don’t have to do this alone, okay? We’ll be there with you."
I nod, feeling the lump in my throat rise again. I don’t want to break down. I need to keep it together.
As we head out of the apartment and into the car, my mind keeps wandering back to him. The memories flash like a slideshow, moments of laughter, of warmth, of everything we shared.
When we arrive at the cemetery, it’s quiet. The world seems still, almost as if holding its breath for what’s about to happen. The flowers are laid out neatly, the soft breeze brushing against my skin. But none of it seems real.
I step out of the car, feeling the weight of every step as I walk toward the gathering. Eli’s family is already there, their faces somber, their eyes filled with grief. I find his mother, standing near the grave, and I walk over to her slowly.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice cracking with the weight of her own pain.
I don’t know how to answer. How can I be okay? How can any of us be okay when he’s gone? But I manage to nod, forcing a small smile. "I’m… trying to be strong. For him."
She gives me a sad smile in return. "You were always his strength."
I look around, my eyes scanning the area, when suddenly something catches my attention. A butterfly. It’s fluttering gently near the flowers, its wings delicate and soft. My heart skips a beat, and my breath catches in my throat.
It’s just a butterfly, I know. But something about it feels different. A sense of peace, as if it’s a sign.
Tears well up in my eyes as I stare at it, unable to look away. It hovers for a moment, as if it’s waiting for me to see it—waiting for me to understand. And then, it flutters away, disappearing into the wind.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear the tears from my eyes. I can barely breathe, the heaviness in my chest threatening to overtake me.
For a fleeting moment, I feel like Eli is still here. That he’s sending me this sign, this butterfly, as if to tell me he’s okay. As if to tell me he doesn’t want me to carry this pain forever.
I take a deep breath, my heart aching but filled with a small sliver of peace. He’s gone, yes. But somehow, in this moment, it feels like he’s still watching over me, still here in some way.
I turn to face the grave, and the tears come again, but this time, they feel different. They feel like a release, a way to let go. Slowly, I step forward, placing a flower on the grave.
Goodbye, Eli. Thank you for everything. I’ll carry you with me, always.
I stand there for a few moments longer, just breathing in the quiet, the stillness, the sense of him that lingers. The butterfly’s presence was a reminder. He may not be here physically, but in every memory, in every whisper of the wind, in every flutter of a wing—he’s still with me.
And somehow, that makes the goodbye just a little bit easier.
The butterfly has disappeared, leaving only the weight of its memory behind. I feel the tears in my eyes once more, the heartache that has never truly left.
The wind picks up, gently stirring the flowers placed carefully around the grave, their colors vivid against the gray sky. But it’s the silence that feels the loudest now.
I stand frozen for a moment, my mind racing, my chest heavy with grief. How did it come to this? How did we get here? Why couldn’t I have saved him the way he saved me?
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of me.
I didn’t save him.
I failed him.
I’ve spent so much time living with the guilt of not being able to help him, of not seeing how deep his pain ran. I should have known. I should have seen the signs. I should have been there more. But instead, I was lost in my own battles, my own demons, and I couldn't even be there for him when he needed me the most.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block the overwhelming feeling of failure. I let out a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but it’s hard. It’s so hard.
“I’m sorry, Eli,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t save you the way you saved me.”
I remember the way he always pulled me from the edge, how his presence was a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone, even in my darkest moments. When the storm raged inside me, he was there, steady and sure, guiding me back to calm. But when it was his turn to fight, when his own demons came knocking, I didn’t see it. I couldn’t pull him back, and I couldn’t save him.
I’ve always felt like a failure in so many ways. But today, standing at his grave, the weight of that failure feels like it’s crushing me.
Tears spill down my cheeks, and I let them fall. I let the tears take away the bitterness, the guilt, the blame that has held me in a vice grip since I found out. I wish I could have been stronger for him the way he was for me. I wish I could have given him even half the love and support he gave me.
I take a step back from the grave, my body trembling as I reach for my phone. I open it, seeing the last message he sent me. The last message.
"Good morning my love, don’t forget to eat, and take your meds. I love you."
I can still hear his voice in my head, as if he’s speaking those words to me now. “I love you.”
I press my hand to my heart, feeling it beat a little faster. I miss him so much. More than I can even put into words.
But I know now that I have to keep going. He would have wanted me to live. To fight for the life he couldn’t have, to take care of myself the way he tried to take care of me.
I look at the grave one last time, my heart heavy but full of gratitude, too. He gave me a chance at life when I didn’t think I could keep going. And I have to honor that by doing the same for myself, even if it’s the hardest thing I’ll ever do.
“I’ll be okay, Eli. I promise. I’ll keep living, for both of us.”
I let the words settle in my chest, as the wind picks up again, carrying the faintest trace of warmth. Maybe it’s a sign, maybe it’s just the wind. But in this moment, I choose to believe it’s him.
I take a deep breath and turn away from the grave, feeling like a part of me is leaving with him. But another part of me is staying. And I know that, no matter where he is, he’s always going to be with me.
As I walk away, I let the tears fall freely now, not as a burden, but as a release. For the first time in what feels like forever, I know that I can move forward, even if it means learning to live without him by my side.
He saved me once. Now, it’s my turn to save myself.