The Man I Buried
I buried him myself.
I stood at his grave with dirt on my hands and grief in my throat as I said goodbye to the only man I ever thought I would love. Kael was my betrothed, my mate, the boy who grew up beside me and became the person I built every future around. When the war took him it did not just take him — it took every version of myself that existed because of him.
Years passed. The moon goddess, in her mercy, gave me something I never asked for — a second chance. Rowan was not supposed to happen. He was patient where I was resistant, steady where I was broken, and present in every way I had convinced myself no one would ever be again. I did not want to love him. And then I did not know how to stop.
I was finally learning what it meant to choose life again.
When Kael walked back through my door.
Alive. Unchanged. And completely unable to explain where he had been.
Now I am torn between a love that was written into my soul before I was old enough to understand what souls were, and a man who chose me quietly and completely when I had nothing left to offer.
The elders say this is not a reverse harem blessing. There is no keeping both.
I have to choose.
But how do you bury someone you love twice?
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