Arc 1 : Chapter 1: The Chapel

Julian (present day)

When I asked her weeks ago if she would join me in the chapel, she had smiled, leaning up on her tiptoes to press her lips against my jaw.

“Yes, of course I will, my love,” she had whispered softly. “I would never let you go.”

I never thought this is what she meant. She played dirty, once again.

I can’t keep my eyes off her. Even now, resting in the polished mahogany casket at the front of St. Jude’s nave, she is still so breathtakingly beautiful. Her blonde hair is styled in those familiar, soft waves, falling gently over the high collar of the dress I bought her. The white one. I remember the afternoon we picked it out in the city. When I grumbled about how impractical light silk was, she had simply laughed, tugged on my lapels, and said, “I have to be the sunshine if you’re going to be the grumpy one, Julian.”

I keep telling myself that she’s just sleeping. Any second now, she’s going to open those bright eyes, look up at me, and repeat those exact words. I would never let you go.

I try to stay completely still, barely daring to breathe. I want to tell the crowd around us to shut up. All this suffocating noise—the quiet sobs, the rustle of black coats, the soft weeping of girls from her dorm—it’s going to disturb her. It’s going to wake her up.

I don’t say a word. I just stare.

The chapel is heavy with the thick, cloying scent of frankincense and burning wax. Candles flicker in long rows down the aisle, casting erratic shadows across the stone floor. Flowers cover every available surface—lilies, white roses, and endless sprays of yellow sunflowers.

Everyone in this room is looking at me like I’m a monster who finally got what he deserved. They think I broke the sunshine girl. They think loving me is what put her in this box.

And God help me, standing here in the silence, so do I.

But I hadn’t seen any of this coming. She was always so terrifyingly good at hiding things.

“A man without secrets is just a book without pages, Julian,” she used to tell me, tossing her hair over her shoulder with that light, teasing smirk.

I remembered leaning down to her level back then, scoffing. “Then I’m not a book. I’m an encyclopedia.”

She had laughed—burst into that full, breathless laughter until tears actually brimmed in the corners of her eyes. For a whole week after that, she wouldn’t even call me by my name. It was always Encyclopedia.

A tiny, involuntary twitch tugs at the corner of my mouth. I don’t mean to smile. But for just one fleeting second, the memory slips through the dark, and I do.

Instant guilt hits me like a blow to the chest. I feel sick. How could I laugh? There is nothing to laugh about in this damn room. I am literally standing here, looking for the very last time at the only person I ever loved. The only person who cared enough to look beneath the persona—underneath the armor of the volatile, cold bad boy St. Jude’s forced me to wear.

Fuck, Daisy. Why did you play dirty? Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong?

If I had known, I would have fought the earth to save you. I would have used every dirty trick I had. I would have yelled my family’s cursed surname at every specialist doctor in the country, thrown all of my inheritance at them, done anything just to buy her a chance.

My palms grow slick with sweat. My breath catches in my throat, shallow and hollowed out.

I force the moisture back from my eyes. I can’t cry. If I cry, she’ll see me. She’ll tilt her head and tease me, telling me that no one deserves a weeping monster hovering over their head.

Just come back to me and I won’t cry, Daisy. Come on, this isn’t a joke. Just come back.

I force my hands into deep pockets, white-knuckling my fists to stop myself from reaching out, touching the casket, and tearing the wooden lid off.

This is a nightmare, and once again, I’m left wearing the villain’s clothes.

Whenever her parents look away from her, their eyes drift toward me. There’s no anger in their gazes—no accusation or ice. Just a quiet, devastating sorrow that feels infinitely heavier to carry. Her mother lifts a soft hand, pointing me out to a tall man standing beside them. I don’t recognize him; he must be another relative. She isn’t warning him about a monster. She’s simply telling him who I was to her daughter.

I was the monster their daughter loved.

I was the bad boy their daughter fought for.

I was their daughter’s boyfriend, and for a short, beautiful moment, they had become my chosen family. Now, without her, I am completely alone again.

A sheep wearing wolf’s clothes is still a sheep... or does it eventually become the wolf?

Daisy you know the answer, you know all the answers just answer me.

The priest says something, his voice echoing off the stone walls. He repeats it, slower this time.

“Love does not end when life ends. The bond remains inside us forever.”

I want to smack his face.

I don’t want a bond. I want her. Beside me. Holding me. Studying at my desk late at night. Telling me straight to my face that I’m a bullying prick when I get too arrogant. I want to feel her soft lips on mine. I want to hold her warm, living hand in mine.

“Promise me,” she had whispered the last time we talked, her breath barely a flutter against my neck. “Promise me that you will be okay.”

And I did. I promised her.

And now I’m not. I’m not okay, do you hear me, Daisy? I am completely broken.

And that is on you my love.

They come to close the casket, and that is my cue to leave.

I turn my back, walking past the edge of the burial spot into the cemetery. People are gathering in a slow, somber circle, each taking their turn to place a single yellow sunflower over her casket. I take my time, watching them from a distance until the crowd slowly filters out, leaving me all alone.

My feet are burning, heavy as lead. I step up to the fresh earth, collapse forward, and bend my knee in front of her grave.

I sit there with my eyes closed for a long time, the cold dirt soaking into my trousers, until a strange sensation pulls me back. Someone is watching me.

Opening my eyes, I see the tall man from the church standing a few paces away. He clears his throat softly to make sure I notice him.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice low and measured.

“Are you Julian Vance?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s me,” I answered, my voice rough and hollow from the silent scream stuck in my chest.

“I am the lawyer of Miss Daisy Miller. And I have something for you.”

He reached inside the pocket of his charcoal wool overcoat and withdrew a thick, sealed manila envelope. Stepping forward, he held it out to me. The heavy parchment bore my name written on the front in Daisy’s unmistakable, neat handwriting.

“She instructed me to give this to you directly after the service,” the lawyer said softly, his eyes reflecting a quiet sympathy. “She was very clear that no one else was to open it.”

My fingers trembled as I took the envelope. Its weight felt impossibly heavy in my hand. Beneath the thick paper, I could feel the distinct, rigid outline of a small metal key.

“What is this?” I asked, staring down at her handwriting, half-expecting the ink to fade away like a hallucination.

“She called it the beginning,” the lawyer replied, adjusting his coat. “Everything you need to know is inside.”

He gave a respectful nod, turned on his heel, and walked back down the gravel path, leaving me alone with her final request resting in my palms.Arc 1 : Chapter 1: The Chapel

Note to the writer : : Funeral at St. Jude’s. Julian weighed down by guilt. Lawyer hands him sealed envelope with key to Locker 104