Numb with grief, Olivia sat motionless, a dull ache in her chest. Finally, she asked where he was buried. The HR director, who had attended the funeral representing the company, drew her a map of the cemetery in Andrew’s hometown. When asked if she wanted to contact the family, Olivia refused. She just took the map and left.
Now, walking the winding paths of the cemetery, her legs felt heavy. A cold rain began to fall, but she pushed on. She needed to say goodbye. She needed to apologize. Guilt gnawed at her—if she hadn’t been so insecure, if she had just gone with him, maybe things would have been different.
The drizzle turned into a downpour, and she began to shiver. She knew she shouldn’t risk her health or the baby’s, but she was close. She found the plot, matching the drawing she held. It was an impressive site, dominated by a large, classic stone mausoleum that looked like a small chapel, clearly belonging to an old, established family.
The structure was intimidating, a testament to the wealth Olivia had been so afraid of. She saw a fresh grave nearby, covered in flowers that were beginning to wilt in the rain. A wooden cross stood at the head with a photo of Andrew. Seeing his face, she collapsed onto the wet grass, whispering a broken hello.
She lost track of time, crying until she had no tears left. Eventually, the cold seeped into her bones, and a wave of dizziness hit her. She needed to find a motel. She reached for her phone to call a cab, but her pockets were empty. Panic set in—she must have dropped it somewhere on the walk over.
Thunder cracked overhead, and the sky opened up. Desperate for shelter, she ran toward the heavy doors of the family mausoleum. To her surprise, the iron gate was unlocked. She slipped inside, murmuring an apology for the intrusion, grateful for the dry stone floor.
She sat in the corner, leaving the door cracked slightly for light. The silence of the crypt was suddenly broken by a loud, jarring vibration. Startled, Olivia saw a high-end smartphone lighting up on a stone bench nearby. It was ringing. Trembling, half-expecting something supernatural, she picked it up and answered with a shaky voice.
A man’s voice on the other end sounded relieved. He explained he had lost the phone earlier that day while supervising some restoration work on the structure. When Olivia explained she was currently inside that very mausoleum, sheltering from the storm, the line went silent for a moment. The man was stunned.
