“I’m glad you could make it,” Lily’s father says as I enter the church. Fresh grief threatens to overwhelm me as I look around, and I draw a steadying breath. This is where we held her funeral too, and all of a sudden, it feels like I’m back in the past, in those moments when we were told her body had been found.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Raymond,” I murmur, forcing a smile, guilt settling in my chest. The truth is I nearly hadn’t made it at all, and if not for the remorse following the mere thought of wanting to move on, I wouldn’t be here. It’s sickening how badly I want to forget, when I once promised myself I never would.
Raymond nods at me, his own expression haunted. “I didn’t think you’d come, not now you’re married to Zane Windsor.”
My entire body goes rigid, and my eyes snap to his. Pure dread settles in the pit of my stomach, blending with something akin to bitterness. “Did you know?” I ask, my tone sharper than I’d intended. “About them?”
I never told him what Lily told me, didn’t have it in me to admit I’d been part of the reason he lost his daughter. It was pure selfishness — I couldn’t handle the shame, the weight of my sins. Couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him I was the reason she chose to jump when, for years, I’d been the reason she didn’t. That night, every attempt at reassurance only drove her closer to the edge, fueling her guilt.
Raymond searches my face, his expression pained. “You’re still okay to speak, aren’t you? You and I are the people who loved her the most. You’re one of the few people who remember her the way I wanted her to be remembered, as the beautiful soul she was, however broken she might have been at times.”
His reluctance to answer my question is an answer in itself, and I lower my gaze. “Of course,” I tell him, my voice breaking. “I’d be honored.”
He nods and gestures toward the front of the church, leading me toward it. With every step I take, my heartache intensifies. I meant what I said when I told Zane I’d forgive him, but standing here, with a beautiful photo of Lily in the same church we said our goodbyes in… it just makes me feel like I’m betraying her by standing here as Celeste Windsor. This is why she chose to part with me — because she couldn’t bear to watch me marry Zane, and in the end, that’s exactly what I did.
The worst part is I don’t regret it. Not anymore. Even as I stand in front of a crowd of familiar faces with Lily’s photo by my side, I can’t find it in me to feel bad for trying to choose happiness after years of pure devastation. Would she find me selfish? Would she condemn me for my choices? I’d be lying if I said I’m not ashamed of my own weakness, of forgiving Zane for something I’ve always found unforgivable. I guess she did know how our story would go — she’d seen me forgive him for years of pain once before, and here I am, doing it again. When she told me she’d never seen me love anyone the way I loved Zane, she was right.
I take a deep breath before addressing those who have gathered to honor her memory, feeling entirely unqualified to stand here. Out of everyone here, I’m the one who has the least right to speak of her like I don’t betray her with every heartbeat.
“Liliana was my best friend, and the closest thing to a sister I had growing up,” I say, my voice trembling. “Not a day goes by without me thinking of her. She wasn’t the kind of person you forget easily. When Lily walked into a room, she’d light it up with her smile within seconds, and she’d make you feel so at ease, almost instantly. That was one of her qualities I always loved most, the way she cared so deeply about everyone around her. She was always the one that made sure everyone felt included, and not a day went by without her reminding me that I mattered.”
I stare at the cue cards in my hands, my vision swimming with tears. “When the pain becomes too heavy to carry, I think of our best memories, and it always helps lessen the grief just a little. It reminds me of the impact she had on my life, of the legacy she left behind.” I watch as several people dab away tears, some people we went to high school with, some Lily met at the various charities she volunteered at. “My favorite memory is one from university. We both studied in London, and while we were in England, she’d often tempt me into joining one of her many impulsive road trips. On one of those trips, we found ourselves in a city called Liverpool.”
I laugh through my tears, my heart warming. “We spent the entire weekend trying to decipher what people were saying — it definitely was English, but neither of us could understand a word, and for weeks after, she’d imitate the accent, making me laugh each and every time. For years after, she’d say milk the way they do there, and I’d giggle in response. That’s what she did — she inspired joy in everyone around her.”
Tears run down my face, and I draw a shaky breath as I put away the speech I’d prepared, feeling like a fraud. I’d planned to do what I did for Lily when she missed her mom, and talk about my favorite memories with her. I’d wanted to share parts of her that only I knew about, but I don’t have it in me today. “In more ways than one, Lily saved me,” I tell the crowd instead, my voice breaking. “I just wish I could’ve saved her in return.”
I step back and shake my head, unable to keep standing here like I have any right to be here, to talk of our memories together like I don’t desecrate the memory of her every single day. I bite down on my lip and shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I can’t do this.”
I stumble back and hesitate for a beat, before walking away, knowing Lily wouldn’t want me to speak when I did exactly what she feared I would. I keep my eyes on the church’s doors as I take one step after the other, needing to get away.
“Celeste!”
I turn back to find Lily’s father rushing after me, and I pause right next to my car, even though I struggle to face him.
Raymond reaches for me, his hands trembling as he wipes away my tears. “She loved you more than anyone else, Celeste. She wouldn’t want to see you this way.”
My vision is blurry as I glance up at him, wishing I could latch onto the hope his words instill in me, but I know they’re merely meant as consolation, not an ounce of truth to them. I force a smile, even as more tears run down my face, my lungs burning.
“Sweetheart,” he says, his tone hesitant. “I think there’s someone you should meet.”
