The morning fog blurred the village into a muted gray as Ellie stood trembling in a plain white dress. She kept her eyes down, afraid to meet the stares of those who pitied her—and those who didn’t care enough to.

Caleb stood beside her, tall and weathered from years of mountain hardships. His jaw was set, his gaze steady, and though there was a softness hiding deep in his eyes, Ellie was far too frightened to see it.

His children stood close:
Mia, eight years old, fiercely protective.
Ben, five, peeking from behind his sister’s arm.

To them, Ellie was a stranger invading the last pieces of their mother’s memory.

When the ceremony ended, Ellie felt as though part of her had been left behind in the village—buried somewhere she would never find again.