He Fed Me My Father Ashes

"I stared at the photo on my phone screen, my breath hitching in my throat. Every muscle in my body went rigid.

In the grainy, candid shot, a man was buried against a woman’s chest. His face was obscured, but a tiny, distinct mole on his earlobe caught the light. It pierced my eyes like a needle.

My husband, Xavier Cross, had that exact same mark.

It had started with a viral thread I’d stumbled upon while scrolling through a popular campus gossip site. The title was blunt: “Rating My Boyfriend’s Skills: From Stiff Academic to Bedroom God.”