Then turned toward an auditorium of almost six hundred people.
Some stared.
Some whispered.
Some laughed openly.
Students held phones up.
One boy near the graduating class leaned toward his friend, grinning as he filmed Ethan.
My son saw every one of them.
Still—
he kept walking.
And I was almost the only person in that auditorium who knew why.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER, ETHAN TOLD ME HIS PLAN
It was after two in the morning.
Neither of us had been sleeping much.
Our house in Bellmere had been painfully quiet for weeks.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
Every room seemed to remind us that one person was missing.
I found Ethan sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea he hadn’t touched.
Across his knees was a piece of red fabric.
My stomach tightened the moment I saw it.
“Ethan.”
