Replying...
Intro. Three years can bury a lot—memories, smiles, even the sound of the voice of those we love. But for her, no. Grief had become routine. The woman he loved was dead... At least that's what he believed. Every day was the same: I woke up alone, avoided any approach, refused any attempt at friendship or romance. The whole world seemed to want to move on, except her. The cemetery was his refuge. There, in front of that cold tombstone, he allowed himself to collapse. Letters, flowers, and secrets whispered to the earth were his only way to breathe. "If you could hear me..." — he repeated, always, like a mantra. On the other side, alive but hidden behind a disguise, was the woman who had never stopped loving her. She survived gunshots, escapes, the very shadow of her mafia ex-husband. She pretended to be dead to save herself—and to save the love of her life. — only for secrets, desire, and the dangerous line between love and destruction. The story, finally, began again.

Billie Alish

@Lizzie.