Chapter 6 Widow at Eighteen

The sky hung low and gray over the private Richards cemetery, clouds heavy with unshed tears.

Six black horses pulled a carriage carrying a body-less casket, treated with every ounce of honor due a fallen soldier. An Ivory City flag, crisp and white, was draped across it.

Beside the carriage walked a horse with no rider, its saddle polished and empty, a silent symbol of the leader who would ride no more.

Behind them marched his platoon, each man in full uniform, faces drawn and eyes fixed ahead as a low, mournful tune drifted through the air.

At the back of the procession stood Heaven, her black veil fluttering in the drizzle. She was attending the burial of a man she had married  and never met.

Captain Boyle Richards.

In her hands, she held the only thing she had ever seen of him, his photograph.

On the very day of their wedding, he had gone missing in action. For a month, the military scoured the northern border, where he had been on mission. Searching through ashes and wreckage. In the end, the reports were all the same, no body, no survivors. He was gone.

Beside her walked General Richard, Boyle’s father, his medals glinting dully beneath the gray rain. His mother, Eleanor Richards, wept softly beside him, her veil trembling with every breath.

And then there was Maverick Richards, Boyle’s younger brother composed, unreadable, his military uniform pristine despite the weather. His face revealed nothing.

The air was thick with grief, yet Heaven felt nothing.

How did one mourn a stranger?

How did one cry for a man whose voice she had never heard, whose hand she had never held  yet whose last name she now carried?

The drizzle deepened as they reached the gravesite. The casket was lowered onto a platform, the flag rippling gently in the wind.

A chaplain stepped forward, his black robe soaked with rain.

“Today, we lay to rest Captain Boyle Richards,” he began solemnly. “A man who led with honor and lived with courage. May his soul find peace, and may his legacy never fade.”

He bowed his head, then stepped back.

The command followed sharp, reverberating.

“Ready—aim—fire!”

Three volleys shattered the silence. Birds scattered from nearby trees, their wings beating against the gray sky. When the echoes faded, a  bugle began to play  slow, haunting, sad.

Two guards approached the coffin, folding the flag with practiced precision. When they finished, one knelt before Heaven, presenting it gracefully.

“Madam,” he said quietly, “on behalf of the nation and the citizens of Ivory City, please accept this flag as a symbol of our gratitude for your husband’s faithful service.”

Heaven’s cold hands closed around the flag.

The fabric felt heavy, heavier than any burden she had ever carried.

All she had wanted was to save her family.

Instead, she had sold herself into widowhood.

She had braced herself to be a wife to a stranger, hoping love might bloom with time. But now she was bound to a ghost.

A sudden roar split through the clouds, the sound of jets streaking across the sky. Heaven’s head lifted instinctively, the wind catching the flag in her hand, almost tearing it from her grasp.

“Hold up the flag!”

The commanding voice startled her. Heaven turned sharply.

It was Maverick.

His gaze met hers  only for a moment  before he looked away.

She clutched the folded flag tightly, obeying without question.

It was the first time he had ever spoken to her, even though he was present in the court when she signed the marriage certificate . His eyes were cold and unreadable. He hadn’t spared her a glance then.

When the casket was lowered into the grave, a soft patter of rain began to fall. A soldier stepped forward and offered Heaven an umbrella. She accepted it wordlessly, her fingers tightening around the folded flag in her other hand.

One by one, the soldiers began to leave the cemetery some bowed their heads to the grave, others gave her a brief, respectful nod as they passed. The once-crowded field grew quiet, leaving only a few mourners lingering under the gray sky.

Mrs. Richards had broken down completely as the casket disappeared into the earth. The General had to guide his wife away, his arm firm around her trembling shoulders. Heaven watched them go, unsure whether to follow or stay behind.

She stood by the black car that would take her back to the Richards’ mansion, the flag still pressed to her chest, the umbrella slightly tilted over her head. The scent of rain and wet earth surrounded her.

“Heaven?”

Her head turned sharply at the familiar voice.

“Mother?” she breathed, her voice cracking. She rushed forward, a shaky smile breaking through her grief. Relief washed over her like warmth after a long chill. She wasn’t alone. Her mother was here.

But before she could say another word, her mother’s tone shifted.

“What are the Richards going to do about you now?”

The question stunned her. “What do you mean?”

Her mother sighed, eyes darting toward the family car. “They can’t send you back, Heaven. We don’t have the money anymore. We used everything to clear the loan.”

Heaven’s brief relief slipped away, replaced by the same cold dread she’d felt since the announcement of Boyle’s death.

“I… can’t I come home?” she whispered. Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to stay there forever. I don’t want to be a widow for the rest of my life.”

Her mother’s eyes hardened, the answer already clear in them. “Unless you want your father to borrow money  from the loan sharks again?”

Heaven shook her head.

“Heaven, listen to me,” she said quietly. “Now that your husband is gone, you must be wise. Stay close to the highest-ranking member of that family. Do what your mother-in-law says. Protect your place and build favors. We can’t go back into debt.”

Heaven felt her throat tighten. She wanted to cry, to tell her mother she didn’t want a place in that house, she didn’t want to build any favors. Before she could speak a low voice interrupted.

“Young madam, it’s time to leave.”

The voice came from behind her. Heaven turned and saw the driver standing beside the car, umbrella in hand. A few steps beyond him, she caught sight of Maverick, already seated inside, his posture straight and formal.

The soldier gestured politely. “Please, ma’am.”

Heaven looked back at her mother one last time before she stepped into the car, clutching the folded flag in her hand as the door closed.

The Richards’ mansion awaited and with it, a future she hadn’t chosen.