Alex woke up early the next morning and quietly slipped past Julian's room, careful not to wake him. She took her car and drove to the nearest florist, picking out a fresh bouquet of sunflowers, her father's favorites, before heading to the cemetery.
The cemetery was quiet. Only a few visitors scattered across the grounds because it was so early—just the way she liked it.
When she reached her father's grave, she gently removed the wilted flowers she had left last time and replaced them with the new ones.
Her fingers brushed the gravestone marked 'James Thompson'.
"Good morning, Dad," she said softly. A smile tugged at her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. She paused for a moment, then whispered, "She's back."
She didn't need to say the name. She was sure her father understood.
They had been so helpless.
Alex had been alone, watching the only person who tried to protect her slowly fade away while the woman who caused it all vanished without a trace.
