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, ying a game on her phone.


    As she was engrossed in the game, she happened to nce 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 heroesid to rest among the silent hills.


    Yvonne wore t 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 stood before it, her head bowed, staring at her own tombstone in silence.


    Her mind felt nk, unsure of what she was supposed to be thinking at that moment.


    Back then if she hadn''t taken the undercover assignment, she and Bet would probably be married


    marted


    Bet by now. They would be living a


    happy life together, maybe even with a beautiful child.


    Her parents wouldn''t have been left alone in their old age after her death.


    Did she regret it? Yvonne had asked herself that question more than once.


    But the answer was always the same: No regrets.


    If someone had to bear that burden, why couldn''t it be her? She was a police officer;


    it was her duty to take on that responsibility.


    She couldn''t be a deserter. She couldn''t betray the g that had been draped over her coffin.


    Yvonne adjusted her dress, then knelt down. As her hand gently wiped the dust from the tombstone, she suddenly felt a searing gaze on her back.


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


    He was dressed in an all-ck suit


    today, which made him look even more rigid and cold. But in his arms, he held arge bouquet of red roses ny-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. Bet Thompson.


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


    He knelt down on one knee and ced 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.


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