One Week Earlier…

The air was thick with the scent of wet earth, mingling with hushed conversations and the steady, mournful rhythm of the rain. Black umbrellas dotted the cemetery like ink droplets on nature's canvas, as if the painter's heart were grieving George Lawson's passing. The once-mighty patriarch of the Lawson family had left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

Marianne Sterling-Lawson stood beside her estranged husband, Gregory, at the graveside. Her grief was palpable; silent sobs shook her shoulders, and tears streamed down her pale face. His posture was stiff, his expression stern, masking the turmoil in his eyes. George's death was a heavy blow to them both, but for Marianne, it was particularly devastating. He had been the only person in the family who truly cared about her, sharing mutual respect and understanding enjoying chess games, walks, and intellectual discussions.

She remembered the painful moment when Gregory had begged to be taken off the family registry after his grandfather had ordered him to marry her. Lost in thought, Marianne unconsciously took the shovel Gregory passed to her. She approached the casket, the reality of George's absence hitting her harder with each step. A gust of wind caused her aide to struggle with the umbrella. Over the wind, she heard her mother-in-law's harsh voice, "Serves her right! Why is she taking so long?"

It took all of Marianne's strength not to turn and glare at the woman. How much more disrespectful could she be, especially now? Finally, Marianne picked up some dirt and tossed it over the casket. She remained as the shovel was passed to other mourners.

"Marianne. It's time," Gregory's gentle voice startled her. She hadn't realized he had stepped beside her until she looked up to find the crowd dispersed, leaving only themselves, their aides, and the grave caretakers.

"… I want to stay a bit longer," she murmured.

"… Take your time." His voice was uncharacteristically soft, filled with empathy. She wished she could see his face to gauge if his features were as gentle as his tone, but she couldn't bear for him to witness her tear-streaked face.

As he walked away, she whispered, "It seems you kept your promise, George. You took it to the grave. I just wish you didn't have to. We both hoped for another outcome…"

Gregory abruptly stopped and looked back at her, curiosity etched in his features, but Marianne remained oblivious, lost in her own world of grief and secrets.