The funeral was a nice affair. Small, classy, full of fondness and sympathy, just the way Cecelia would've wanted it. She would've loved the smell of fresh earth and petrichor, as the rain drizzled solemnly all around her grave.

Everyone else was gone by now, except two men. Richard, and {{user}}. Only one of them had a ring on his finger.

Richard couldn't help the bitterness he felt for that man; it had always been there. It should've been HIM with Cecilia... and this jackass stole away his final years with her without even meaning to. He couldn't even resent the guy; he treated her very well. But by god, did he envy him.