Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards - Chapter 25: Chapter 25
You are reading Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards, Chapter 25: Chapter 25. Read more chapters of Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards.
Jayden
My earliest memory of her was watching this little girl learning to ride a bike, only to crash straight into my mom's prized flower bed.
Her face was caked with dirt, but she still managed to look adorable: "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I'll totally pay for whatever I killed."
I was in eighth grade—way too cool to deal with some random elementary kid.
I barely looked up: "Whatever. Don't worry about it."
But the next spring, she showed up at my bedroom window in pigtails and this bright pink dress, holding the biggest bouquet of sunflowers I'd ever seen.
The way the spring breeze caught her hair, the way she smiled—I swear my heart just stopped.
That's when I fell for Skylar Madden. Age thirteen, completely gone.
I spent the next ten years making excuses. She's too young, wait until high school. High school's too stressful, wait until college. College is for figuring herself out, wait for the right moment.
I kept waiting and waiting, until Timothy fucking Goldstein showed up and swept her off her feet.
Sometimes I wonder if I'd grown a pair back then, would everything have been different?
But that's not how life works.
Skylar vanished from my world for five years.
I knew she had leukemia, but I had no clue where she'd gone or if she was even still breathing.
I remember this one time we watched "Me Before You" together. During that scene where the guy records his final message, she completely lost it—ugly crying all over my hoodie.
"Jayden," she said through her tears, "if I ever get that sick, I want to do hospice. Just... go quietly, you know?"
I figured if Skylar ever came back to New York dying, she'd want that kind of peace.
So I opened a hospice facility.
I knew how fucking stubborn she was. I knew she'd never let me see her at rock bottom.
But I was selfish—I wanted to be there when she needed someone most.
The day she died, I kept asking: "Sky, any regrets? Anything you need to say?"
Part of me was praying she'd say something like: "In another life, Jay, maybe it would've been you."
Instead, she used her last breath worrying about Timothy: "If he falls apart, promise me you'll get him help. Make him forget me."
That's when it hit me.
Love isn't just about being brave enough to shoot your shot. Sometimes the person you love is hardwired for someone else.
I managed to choke out: "I promise."
Five years after losing Skylar, I finally decided to let go.
I agreed to the arranged marriage my parents had been pushing.
Sarah was incredible—wild and spontaneous, dragging me to dive bars and concerts because "married couples should have adventures together."
She was also the most considerate person I'd ever met, always reading my moods, knowing exactly what I needed.
Three years in, I couldn't tell if what I felt was love, but I knew I wanted to be the best husband possible. She deserved that much.
Year five, Sarah got pregnant. That's when she found my old diary hidden in a shoebox.
No drama, no tears. She just quietly put it back where she'd found it.
"First love?" she asked.
I wasn't going to lie—not after everything we'd built together.
"First crush, actually. She died before I ever worked up the courage to tell her."
Sarah rubbed my shoulders: "Jay, baby, that's ancient history."
She was right. It was ancient history.
I wasn't stuck in the past anymore. I was moving forward, building the life Skylar would've wanted for me.
I flipped through that old diary one last time, reading the faded ink: *"Going to tell Skylar how I feel the day she turns eighteen."*
I could still picture that night—fifteen-year-old me in a white hoodie, sitting under my desk lamp, heart pounding as I wrote those words.
The memory was crystal clear, but that kid was long gone.
I picked up a pen and wrote one final entry:
*"We all have those people and moments we can't let go of, even when holding on serves no purpose."*
Then I flipped to a blank page.
Hey Skylar, it's time to close this chapter of us for good.
My earliest memory of her was watching this little girl learning to ride a bike, only to crash straight into my mom's prized flower bed.
Her face was caked with dirt, but she still managed to look adorable: "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I'll totally pay for whatever I killed."
I was in eighth grade—way too cool to deal with some random elementary kid.
I barely looked up: "Whatever. Don't worry about it."
But the next spring, she showed up at my bedroom window in pigtails and this bright pink dress, holding the biggest bouquet of sunflowers I'd ever seen.
The way the spring breeze caught her hair, the way she smiled—I swear my heart just stopped.
That's when I fell for Skylar Madden. Age thirteen, completely gone.
I spent the next ten years making excuses. She's too young, wait until high school. High school's too stressful, wait until college. College is for figuring herself out, wait for the right moment.
I kept waiting and waiting, until Timothy fucking Goldstein showed up and swept her off her feet.
Sometimes I wonder if I'd grown a pair back then, would everything have been different?
But that's not how life works.
Skylar vanished from my world for five years.
I knew she had leukemia, but I had no clue where she'd gone or if she was even still breathing.
I remember this one time we watched "Me Before You" together. During that scene where the guy records his final message, she completely lost it—ugly crying all over my hoodie.
"Jayden," she said through her tears, "if I ever get that sick, I want to do hospice. Just... go quietly, you know?"
I figured if Skylar ever came back to New York dying, she'd want that kind of peace.
So I opened a hospice facility.
I knew how fucking stubborn she was. I knew she'd never let me see her at rock bottom.
But I was selfish—I wanted to be there when she needed someone most.
The day she died, I kept asking: "Sky, any regrets? Anything you need to say?"
Part of me was praying she'd say something like: "In another life, Jay, maybe it would've been you."
Instead, she used her last breath worrying about Timothy: "If he falls apart, promise me you'll get him help. Make him forget me."
That's when it hit me.
Love isn't just about being brave enough to shoot your shot. Sometimes the person you love is hardwired for someone else.
I managed to choke out: "I promise."
Five years after losing Skylar, I finally decided to let go.
I agreed to the arranged marriage my parents had been pushing.
Sarah was incredible—wild and spontaneous, dragging me to dive bars and concerts because "married couples should have adventures together."
She was also the most considerate person I'd ever met, always reading my moods, knowing exactly what I needed.
Three years in, I couldn't tell if what I felt was love, but I knew I wanted to be the best husband possible. She deserved that much.
Year five, Sarah got pregnant. That's when she found my old diary hidden in a shoebox.
No drama, no tears. She just quietly put it back where she'd found it.
"First love?" she asked.
I wasn't going to lie—not after everything we'd built together.
"First crush, actually. She died before I ever worked up the courage to tell her."
Sarah rubbed my shoulders: "Jay, baby, that's ancient history."
She was right. It was ancient history.
I wasn't stuck in the past anymore. I was moving forward, building the life Skylar would've wanted for me.
I flipped through that old diary one last time, reading the faded ink: *"Going to tell Skylar how I feel the day she turns eighteen."*
I could still picture that night—fifteen-year-old me in a white hoodie, sitting under my desk lamp, heart pounding as I wrote those words.
The memory was crystal clear, but that kid was long gone.
I picked up a pen and wrote one final entry:
*"We all have those people and moments we can't let go of, even when holding on serves no purpose."*
Then I flipped to a blank page.
Hey Skylar, it's time to close this chapter of us for good.
End of Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards Chapter 25. View all chapters or return to Stand-In Heiress's Last Sunflower Blooms in Graveyards book page.