The Rain won't Last Forever

In the final month of my life, I took the cherished photos and went to the cemetery to look at the plot.

The cemetery agent warmly escorted me, showing me around to familiarize myself with the future neighbors in advance.

To prevent future conflicts and ensure peace of mind in my new home.

But unexpectedly, I encountered the ex-husband who had been visiting here since our divorce three years ago.

And his mother's grave was right next to the plot I had reserved.

When enemies meet, their animosity flares up and my ex-husband held nothing back to speak his mind.

"Anyone else can buy this plot, but not you. You don't deserve it."

Feeling helpless, I asked the agent to find me another location.

But the agent looked troubled.

"Miss Enders, cemetery space is incredibly limited at the moment. This is the only plot left."

I was diagnosed with advanced liver cancer, with only three months left to live.

In the first two months, I brought in a compassionate hospice caregiver to help me navigate with my daily needs.

I also reached out to a funeral home, ensuring that my final wishes would be respected. Then, as the final month dawned, the phone rang. It was the cemetery agent.

"Miss Enders, a plot has become available. Are you able to come and see it now?"

I eagerly asked Jack to accompany me out to the funeral home.

Lately, overwhelming drowsiness had taken over my days and bouts of coughing up blood became disturbingly routine.

Each day, I was haunted by the fear that I wouldn’t make it through the month.

I dreaded the thought of slipping away suddenly, leaving my loved ones with the burden of finding me a final resting place.

Jack Hamilton was the professional hospice caregiver I had hired.

He had been responsible for caring for me, a patient with a bad temper, until my final moments.

Beyond soothing the fear of death, hospice caregivers had also offered expert guidance on funeral arrangements, all at no extra cost.

That's why bringing him along to see the grave had felt like the perfect decision.

By the time we arrived at the cemetery gates, it was almost dusk.

The setting sun cast long shadows and every now and then, a few crows flew overhead.

The coolness of early autumn carried a sorrow that pierced straight to the heart.

Perhaps my furrowed brow was too telling, as Jack gently took my hand.

“Death is an end, but it’s also a new beginning. Don’t be afraid.”

I tilted my head in confusion.

“Have you experienced it?”

Jack shook his head.

“So how do you know?”

“Maybe death is just that—an absolute end, with no chance for a do-over.”

Life feels truly precious precisely because of the certainty of death.

Noticing I still had the energy to banter, Jack let out a gentle, knowing laugh.

“If there’s no chance to start over, then just sleep peacefully here. I’ll visit you often and if you need anything, I’ll make sure it’s sent to you.”

Jack was a highly responsible and professional hospice caregiver.

He was not only gentle and patient but also quite handsome.

Even though his services were significantly more expensive than others, I was more than willing to pay for the added eye candy in my final days.

However, I wasn’t about to be naively swayed by the charm of a pretty face.

At that moment, the cemetery agent arrived at the door to pick us up.

“Sorry for the wait, Miss Enders. The plot is in the southwest corner. Let me take you there.”

My condition had worsened to the point where walking was nearly impossible.

My limbs had withered to frail, skeletal sticks and my face had turned a ghostly shade of gray.

However, being wheeled there in a wheelchair felt like it lacked respect for the deceased.

After all, handling neighborly relations was always delicate—whether dealing with the living or the departed, it was all the same.

So I asked Jack to help me inside, to properly get acquainted with the future entrance and meet the neighbors.

“You’re in luck,” the agent said enthusiastically. “This plot just became available recently and the geomancy is excellent. I guarantee it’ll bring you good fortune in your next life.”

The agent went on and on about the plot’s supposed geomantic benefits, dropping hints that several eager buyers were already eyeing it and ready to seal the deal.

I wasn’t too concerned about the luck aspect.

After all, with just a month left, there’re no reason to delay when a perfectly available resting place was right here, waiting for me, right?

“I need to finalize the plot urgently—ideally, today.”

The agent, clearly pleased, nodded enthusiastically and quickened his pace.

My legs trembled uncontrollably, making it harder and harder to keep up with the agent. Sensing my struggle, Jack bent down effortlessly and scooped me up.

For a split second, I was taken aback, instinctively clutching his neck for support.

Jack’s smile was wide and carefree.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a chuckle. “Your neighbors probably won’t mind.”

I locked eyes with Jack.

It was evident that a true professional had a knack for grasping their client's unspoken needs.

“Miss Enders, this is the spot,” the cemetery agent announced, gesturing ahead.

Jack gently set me down with care.

Nearby, a couple knelt in reverent prayer at a neighboring grave, their curious glances flickering toward us.

I couldn’t help but think that my illness was making me confused—my mind felt foggy and even my vision seemed blurred.

I couldn’t believe it, but the person looked a bit like my ex-husband Oliver Mortimer, whom I’d been divorced from for three years and his new partner, Luna Sirius.

Luna stood up first and smiled as she spoke to me.

“What a coincidence, Emma, to run into you here.”

Unfortunately, bumping into kind souls in a cemetery wasn’t exactly fortuitous.

It felt downright eerie.

I pressed my lips together in silence and Jack, sensing the awkwardness, stepped in to break the tension.

“Emmy, do you know each other?” he asked.

Oliver set aside the incense he was holding and stood up, his gaze distant.

“I’m Emma Enders’ ex-husband,” he said.

The man barely acknowledging my pale complexion as he approached and scrutinized me with a chilling tone.

“Emma, please don’t disturb my family.”

Even though my mind wasn’t as sharp as it once was and I had forgotten many things, his words triggered a sudden realization. Today was Angela Mortimer’s memorial day.

Oliver was here to honor his mother.

With a resigned sigh, I replied, “I’m not here to cause trouble for your mother.”

Oliver let out a harsh laugh, his eyes narrowing with anger.

“Just as well you know. A murderer has no right to appear before her.”

“Why don’t you get lost already?”

Oliver hadn’t changed at all—when he was angry, he was deaf to any reasoning.

As sudden a sharp pain in my abdomen started making my head spin, I clung to Jack for support, barely managing to stay upright.

Seeing my condition deteriorate, Jack quickly stepped in to clarify.

“You’ve misunderstood. We’re here to…”

Oliver cut him off impatiently.

“Misunderstood?”

He glanced at Jack with suspicion.

“You look unfamiliar—just got caught up with Emma, haven’t you? Here’s a tip: keep your distance. You never know when you might be next in line for betrayal.”

Oliver continued to jab at me with his words.

My already numb heart surged with intense pain, making it hard to breathe.

He let out a cold, mocking laugh.

“Not only did you kill my mother, but now you come here pretending to mourn? It just makes me sick.”

Luna quickly tugged at his sleeve, while I clenched my fists, fighting to keep my composure.

Meanwhile, a hot rush of blood surged in my throat, threatening to erupt.

I didn’t want to disrupt the solemnity of the cemetery, so I fought hard to maintain my composure.

Seeing my head bowed and fists clenched, Oliver’s own hands tightened into angry knots.

Sensing the escalating tension, the agent stepped in swiftly.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m the cemetery agent here to help Miss Enders with her plot purchase. Could you please step aside?”