e glasses and the soft music they turned on. Ethan was comforting her, soothing the woman who h

"She' s always so dramatic," Brittany was saying,

Ethan replied, his voice distant

n who had held my hand through my father' s funeral, the man who spoon-fed me soup when I had the flu, the man who had promised me forever just this morning.

y pocket, vibrated. It was a text from m

ly dialed her number. "A

," she said, her voice frantic. "Someone filed a claim on your mother' s burial pl

r. My father was buried with his family in another state, but my mom had wanted to be he

hat?" I asked, panic

ve an excavator scheduled for sunrise tom

, overpowering the pain in my leg and the ache in

the second floor. Without a second thought, I slid the window open, ignoring the searing pain in my calf

torm of fear and anger. I drove recklessly, my hands shaking on the

ghts, a massive yellow excavator was parked right beside my mother' s grave. The ground was already disturbed, the pristine gras

ice raw with desperation.

toward them. I threw myself in front of the grave, spreading my a

ave!" I cried, tears

was deafening. Just as the man in the hard hat star

confused. "Sarah? Wh

en the passenger door opened. Brittany Hayes stepped out, a triumphant smirk

king over to the excavator. She handed a paper t