It was over a month later, but the mare didn't feel any better about what had happened. She never would, either, because of one simple fact: she was at his funeral. Her black dress was a little snug, and restricted her wings, which twitched underneath the smooth fabric. As his family took turns giving some final words, she kept looking down at her hooves, glancing at the slip of paper resting against them; his suicide note. His parents didn't know about it, because he had hidden it where only she would know. Again, she ran the words through her head.
My Love,
It's always been easy to fool ponies into thinking I'm fine. Even you thought I was alright, but then again, it is my special talent. Either way, this world holds no joy for me, not anymore. Even you, who so thoroughly cared for and loved me, would not be here had I not failed my first attempt. And so I try again.
Maybe I'll see you soon, if I fail. But know this: even if I succeed, I will always be yours, in this world and the next. You need only find me, and our hearts will do the rest. I love you, Dove, and I always will.
Wishing you well,
Cold Heart.
Dove brushed a tear from her eye and slipped the note into a pocket in her dress. Slowly, she stood up, making her way to the front of the small crowd. She had planned a short speech, but wasn't even able to get halfway through it before she was crying too hard to be understandable. Taking her seat again, she waited for the priest to finish the sermon. Once he was done, they all gathered around the open grave and watched the coffin be lowered in. Grabbing a nearby shovel, Dove scooped dirt onto the coffin before passing it to the next pony. Each thump of dirt hitting the coffin caused her to see more and more why Cold Heart chose to do what he did. But as she walked away, she vowed that she would never take the easy way out. A sudden cramp in her stomach caused her to double over in pain. Recovering, she started walking again.
'Yes,' she thought to herself, 'I will live for my Cold Heart.'