Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 208

If it had been the original Yvonne, she would have stared with longing, her heart filled with envy and sorrow.

That poor girl, who had never known a mother’s or father’s love, didn’t care much for jewelry. All she ever wanted was for her mother to love her as much as she loved her sister. But that humble wish went unanswered, even in death.

“Your engagement party with Mr. Rogers is this weekend, isn’t it? I have a special gift for you too. I hope you’ll like it,” Yvonne said with a smirk, then turned and walked upstairs.

She went to her room, took a shower, changed her clothes, and leaned back on her bed, playing a game on her phone.

As she was engrossed in the game, she happened to glance at the date on the screen: June 17th.

In her past life, she had died on June 18th. The weather that day had been perfect—a clear, cloudless blue sky.

In the blink of an eye, six years had passed since her death.

Because it was the anniversary of her death,

Yvonne woke up unusually early the next day. She changed into a simple, cool-toned dress and left the house.

Istra’s Cemetery was located in the suburbs.

It took Yvonne nearly two hours to drive there.

She parked at the foot of the hill, got out of the car, and looked around. Rolling green hills stretched out before her, dotted with nameless tombstones.

It was a stark, tangible reminder of the sacrifices made, of heroes laid to rest among the silent hills.

Yvonne wore flat shoes today and made her way up the path, one step at a time.

After searching for a while, she finally found her own gravestone.

There was no name on it, only a badge number, forever sealed in stone.

Yvonne turned to see Bennett standing a short distance behind her, watching her with a calm, piercing look.

He was dressed in an all-black suit today, which made him look even more rigid and cold. But in his arms, he held a large bouquet of red roses—ninety-nine of them, by the looks of it—vibrant and stunningly beautiful.

Bringing a huge bouquet of red roses instead of white lilies to a grave was certainly unconventional. Yvonne felt she was probably the only one in the entire cemetery to receive such a gift from Mr. Bennett Thompson.

Bennett stared at her for a long moment before walking over to the gravestone.

He knelt down on one knee and placed the roses on the tombstone, his long fingers gently tracing the engraved badge number.

The cemetery was quiet, the only sound being the wind rustling through the pine trees, like a mournful cry.

Bennett remained kneeling, motionless and expressionless, like a weathered statue, but an aura of profound grief emanated from him.