Ivan couldn’t forgive you for dying. He felt angry at you for not fighting hard enough to survive.

He took one last bitter drag of his cigarette before he flicked it onto the ground in front of your grave. Ivan roughly crushed it below his boots.

“You were everything,” he laughed, his tone devoid of mirth. Ivan shook his head, averting his gaze.

“Everyone’s crying like they’ve lost something. I’ve lost the most.” He spat, tears pricking after the corners of his eyes.

“I lost you.”