Late at night, in silence, I removed my phone case, revealing a photo.
Ethan, did you see? I tried on a wedding dress today.
The only answer was the deepening darkness of the night.
The next day, I drove alone to a cemetery in the countryside.
In front of Ethan's gravestone stood a couple and a little boy.
Surprised, I asked, "May I ask who you are?"
They were thrilled to see me, "Ethan is our benefactor, and you must be his girlfriend, right?"
I nodded blankly. "Your boyfriend donated his corneas to our son years ago. We don't know how to thank his family enough. Please accept this bank card..."
Shocked, I looked down at the big-eyed boy before me, tears welling up, "Little boy, are you named Luke?"
The boy nodded. "Yes, I'm Luke."
It dawned on me. I had made a mistake.
The person with Ethan's eyes was never the Luke I knew.
The couple continued speaking, but their words faded into the background.
I smiled, patting the boy's head, "Luke, nice to meet you. Grow up strong and healthy."
The boy nodded, tilting his head up to ask me, "Sister, what kind of person is him?"
"He was cool and gentle, able to beat up anyone who bullied me," I replied, a fondness in my voice.
He handed me the umbrella he held. "Don't be sad, Sister. I give you this umbrella. He will surely protect you from heaven."
I patted his head gently. "Thank you."
I declined the bank card they offered. Once they left, I slowly crouched down, touching the photo on the tombstone. "Ethan, do you blame me for mistaking someone else for you?"
The Luke I found wasn't the one I was searching for. He is just an irrelevant person in the grand scheme of things.
As I pondered how to approach him, he came into my life first, and I let myself fall into a relationship with him.
Every time I looked into his eyes, I'd put on my best face, but when I closed my eye, I couldn't even muster a smile. Now, the obsession that had gripped me for so long dissipated in an instant.
Luke called, but without a second thought, I hung up.
The wind howled around me, the rain curtain heavy.
The man in the photo of the tombstone wore a stern expression, his dark eyelashes soft against his cheeks, his gaze gentle as water in the picture I took of him.
I never imagined it would end up in black and white on a cold tombstone.
Softly, I spoke to him, "Ethan, when will you wear a suit for me to see? Is all of this a dream? Will you show up when I wake up tomorrow? If you can hear me, make the rain stop, won't you?"
