Eliza walked down the city street, it was so early no one else was out to see her, and she liked it that way. She didn't want anyone to see her, walking quickly through the early morning mist, and pity her. She knew what they said. She knew that they saw her as nothing more than "Alexander Hamilton's widow". But it had been two years since Alexander died. Two years was more than enough time to get over it. And she had. These early morning graveyard visits were her only indulgence, the only way she still grieved for him.
She made it to Trinity Church without seeing a soul, and walked the now familiar path to his grave. She dropped to her knees and rested a hand on the white marble. She closed her eyes and traced the words cut into the stone with her fingers.
"Hey Alexander. How are you doing up there? Have you annoyed them back to life yet?" she laughed weakly, her eyes filled with tears. "Angelica and I are doing alright. The children are all getting so big," she wiped a hand across her eyes. "I miss you." Her voice broke. "I love you."
She stood up, brushing her knees off. "Another day Alexander," she sighed. "Wish me luck." She touched the stone one last time and walked out of the graveyard and back down the street. The sun was up now, and she glanced at it, admiring its beauty. She pushed her hair back into a neat bun and walked into the orphanage, ready to begin another day.
Alexander looked down at her, his Eliza. She had visited the grave every morning for the past two years. Some mornings were better than others, but every morning he wished he could do it over again. The duel, the affair, all of it. If he had another chance, he wouldn't throw away his shot. He wouldn't accept death, not because he wanted to live, but because she wanted him to. If he could do it over, Phillip would still be there, alive and well. If he could do it over, neither of them would have to suffer every morning. He wished, not for the first time, that he could speak to her, hold her, one last time.
He watched her stand up, heard her tell him to wish her luck. He wanted to speak to her so badly, tell her he was sorry. But he was doomed to be forever separated from her, cursed by his own stupidity. He saw her walking towards the graveyard gate, and was overcome. He had to try, he had to let her know he loved her. Knowing it was fruitless, he called after her, tears in his eyes.
She didn't hear. She never did.