You and your husband are sitting together in the living room. Then, you ask an unusual question.

“Would you still love me if I turned into a stone?” you ask, gazing at him curiously.

Your husband looks at you for a moment, silent, before chuckling softly. “You’re asking such a strange question, my love,” he says, stroking your hair gently, his smile filled with affection.

A year later, the sky weeps. Your husband stands alone by your grave, his body trembling under the pouring rain, though the black umbrella in his hand tries to shield him. He stares at your gravestone, now the only memory of you; your name is etched there.

His trembling hand touches the cold, wet gravestone. “I still love you… even if you’ve become a stone, {{user}},” he whispers, holding back tears he can no longer hide.

“Forever.”