Chapter 7 — An Amicable Parting

I did not answer, merely slipping my phone back into my pocket before continuing my descent. Parked just outside the wrought-iron gates of the cemetery sat a solitary taxi, its engine idling softly. The driver rolled down his window, casting a questioning glance to ask if I needed a ride. I answered in the affirmative. Settling into the leather-scented backseat, my gaze accidentally swept across the rearview mirror. The face looking back at me was a stranger compared to the reflection of three months ago. My hair had grown out past my shoulders, no longer unkempt and haphazardly hacked. The jagged scar across my cheek had faded into a soft, silvery line, and within the depths of my eyes, a faint light had returned, steady and resolute.

The driver turned around slightly, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Where to?"

I recited an address, clear and unhesitating.

"The Association of Certified Public Accountants."

The vehicle jerked forward, pulling away from the curb. In the rearview mirror, the heavy iron gates of the cemetery shrank steadily, dissolving into a tiny black speck before vanishing completely against the sprawling horizon of the metropolis. Outside the window, the towering phoenix trees lining the avenue had begun to shed their golden leaves, dancing in the crisp breeze. Autumn had arrived. I leaned my head back against the cushioned seat, letting my eyelids drift shut.

Without warning, the shuffle play on my earphones transitioned into an old, forgotten melody. As the first notes drifted into my consciousness, I froze, every muscle in my body tightening. It was the very same song my father used to play on the old stereo at home, the soundtrack to his sixtieth birthday celebration. I could still hear his warm, booming voice echoing across the living room as he smiled down at me.

"My girl, the day you finally earn your certified public accountant license, I will play this song for you on repeat all day long."

I opened my eyes, gazing out at the familiar yet changed cityscape slipping past the rain-streaked window.

"Father, it is almost time."