the death of rook vesper : book 1

I poisoned her. Burned her. Sent her to the hospital—maybe even worse. And each time, she came back—not just unscarred, but better. Stronger. Happier.

So in the 21 years I’ve known her, I never thought she would be capable of something like this. Rook was—no, is—the person I strive to be. Gentle. Caring. Rich. Forever joyful. Forever fearless.

She’s what most WILL people now call a gem the world has lost. But to me, she was more than that. She was someone who seemed indestructible. Someone who always knew what to do, no matter how messy or dark things got. Someone who never gave in.

She supported me. She lifted me. When money got tight, she helped my family—even when we didn’t ask. She babysat me until I was 15. She’s the reason I got to attend culinary school. The reason I could open and run this restaurant chain. I even named it after her: Rook Dinings—a thank-you. A tribute. Now, it’s a memorial.

Not many people achieve what Rook did, especially in the short time she had. She was young—too young—to have lived so fully and carried so much.

And now, I find myself wondering if I was too caught up in my own life to notice the signs. If this—this final decision—was what she truly believed she had to do after trying everything else, then I hope she found peace. And I hope she felt in control, even at the end.

I don’t want my last words about her to be sad or heavy. That’s not what she would’ve wanted.

So, in the spirit she embodied: Live your life first. Mourn later. Lest her spirit should come to haunt you.