Cael wrapped me up in his arms. I fit beside him perfectly, like the universe made us to match. Cael held our joined hands up between us, playing with my fingers. A deep cavern buried within me. Was this what Poppy had felt like with Rune? Is this how Rune felt about her in return? If so, how had they ever survived it? How had Rune managed to carry on with his soulmate being taking away from him?
“I tried to convince myself that it was all a big mistake,” Cael said, never taking his eyes from our moving fingers. “I tried to convince myself that it was an accident and that Cillian didn’t choose to leave us.” He swallowed and
I waited patiently for him to continue. “But when I went home that night, I walked into my bedroom and saw an old Bruins game ticket on my desk. It was the first game we’d ever gone to together when we were kids. I’d pinned it to my wall after we’d come back. A memory I wanted to cherish forever.”
My pulse raced faster and faster. “He’d written seven words on the back.” Cael’s voice was briefly stolen by grief before he cleared his throat and said, “I couldn’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.”
As those words sailed into the air between us, I wanted to reach out to them and hold them within my palm. They radiated pain. They radiated such sadness, tears tracked down my cheeks.
I pulled Cael closer and placed our joined hands on my chest, over my heart, and cradled them there instead. “I still have that ticket, Sav. In my wallet. I keep it with me always. But I haven’t looked at it since that night.” Cael sounded exhausted. “When I read it, I knew what the police and paramedics were suspecting was true. What I had seen with my own two eyes was true. He’d taken his own life.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, those words sounding more than inadequate.
“I can’t bring myself to look at it again, Sav.” Cael sounded so tortured.
“You once told me there was no timeline with grief. You need to give yourself that same grace,” I said, kissing his cheek and brushing my nose past his.
“I love you,” he said, and his eyelids began to grow laden with exhaustion.
“I love you too,” I whispered, inviting in the silence of the night.
Cael kissed my forehead and a deep, tired sigh sailed from his lips. He glanced at the open door, and his shoulders lost any remaining tension. He had told Leo all of that too. He had obviously wanted him to hear it.
It was progress.
Cael faced me again, eyelids heavy. In mere minutes he was asleep. But all I could think of was Cillian and the thought of Cael finding him—seeing him pass. Then I thought of Poppy and how peacefully she had died. It hit me then. Just how special that moment was. How her death truly had been special.
I looked at Cael on the bed, sleeping. He was so handsome. So kind and beautiful. And he loved me. Cael Woods loved me. And I loved him too.
I curled into Cael’s chest. And I fell asleep in the arms of the boy I adored.
Love Honored and Serene Sunsets
Savannah
Agra District
India
“W
OW,” L
ILI MURMURED FROM BESIDE ME. T
HE SIMPLE WORD ECHOED HOW I felt inside, awestruck at the magnitude of this stunning building. One that I had seen thousands of times on TV and in books. That I now stood before. It felt like a dream.
The morning sun cast the white marble under a burnt-orange glow. Cael’s hand tightened on my own as the vast wonder stretched before us.
“The Taj Mahal,” our guide, Fatima, said, “was built to honor a great, lost love.” Goose bumps broke out along my body. “Shah Jahan built this in honor of the wife he adored. Mumtaz Mahal died in childbirth in 1631. Shah Jahan was distraught. She had been his entire world, and now she was gone. He wanted to immortalize the woman who had been a constant by his side, so he built this tomb to show the world just how much she was cherished.”
Fatima turned to face us all. “The Taj Mahal has become one of the seven wonders of the world. Yes, because of its stunning architecture, but also because in life, we will all experience loss. And we will all honor our loved ones in some personal way.” Fatima smiled. “The Taj Mahal is a place where beauty meets death. Where loss meets eternity. Where grief meets honor. It is truly a wonder to behold.”
As we toured the famous building, Fatima told us of the domes, the history of how it was built. “White marble was specifically used so that the light changes the hue of the tomb throughout the day. Sunrise brings a visual symphony of oranges and reds; evening creates a masterpiece of the blue and silver of the moon. All the world’s natural beauty encapsulated in one single day.
“If you’ll follow me,” Fatima said and guided us to the inside of the tomb. The decoration, the detail, the wealth that had been poured into this building were flawless. Next came the gardens. Water features and plush greenery made a garden of Eden from the landscape. All I thought as I passed through every inch of this vast memorial, was how much Shah Jahan must have loved his wife. Like our paintings in Goa, this was a tangible representation of what she had meant to him. He made the woman he adored known to the entire world.
The power of his love had done that. It was almost too much to comprehend.
We walked around this living testament to soulmates in awe, necks aching from how much there was to see. And all the time Cael held my hand. The boy I loved held me close as we toured a building where every morsel of marble and stone was pulsing with love. A feeling of contentment settled over me.
After walking for hours, we then watched the day fade to night and the Taj Mahal absorb the blue-silver hue of the moon.
It wasn’t lost on me that it was the exact color of Cael’s eyes.
Back at the hotel, at dinner that night, Mia said, “We brought you here—a quick pitstop on our trip to our next destination—to talk about honoring those who have died.” She gave an encouraging smile. “A huge part of coping with loss is to try to find positives, though they feel few and far between. But placing your energy into remembering the person or people we lost fondly is healthy—it’s progress. Lots of religions and cultures have ceremonies and festivals where they do this. But it’s important to honor your loved ones personally too. In your own way.”
“Does anyone want to touch on how they’ve honored, or maybe plan to honor, their loved ones?” Leo asked.
We were dining on local curry dishes and naan and rice, made with spices I’d never tasted before. This wasn’t like our typical sessions. This was relaxed and comforting, a group of friends sharing a meal and feelings.
“We sit shiva,” Lili said. She placed down her food. “It’s a Jewish tradition where immediate family of the deceased sit for seven days after the person or people they lost have been buried. It is a time to try to face the initial loss, then remember them fondly, and accept the death.” Lili smiled. “It did help me. I sat with my grandparents and aunts and uncles. They held me up when I was falling.”
“That’s beautiful,” Mia said.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.