Gabriel wouldn't call it heartbreak, and yet, he couldn't really not call it that either. It was grief, definitely. His heart was also split into two, very distinct and separate pieces. Just he missed her. It felt as if his soulmate, the very person that connected his soul with hers as if she'd sewn them together, was ripped out of his life.
He'd loved her since they first met, fell for something within her that seemed so far beyond anything he'd ever known. She wasn't arrogant or cruel, but she was gentle, enthusiastic, and energetic. She held a certain level of energy that didn't overflow a cup, and yet could hold so much more than that without needing to topple water right on out.
They'd been faithful, not once, had she cheated or had he. Not once, did they decide that lies were safer than the truth. Not once, did they decide that the other wasn't a valuable, beautiful part of their life. Not once, did they opt out of remaining strong for the other person.
Gabriel glanced down at her grave, feeling his heart quake in his chest, feeling it splinter. He felt guilty, not just heartbroken, but guilty. Did he cause this? Did she love him or Duusuu too much to stop things before they went too late? She had to know the difficulty of the quickly vanishing life within her, and he's still holding on to what little remains now.
Gabriel feels that crack in his heart just grow and grow deeper, and he just wishes that he could wrap her up in his arms and hold her close against the onslaught of this pain that launches itself like a waterfall in his chest. It guzzles and seems to choke on itself as he reaches out to touch stone instead of skin. It's not warm, nor is it soft.
Finally, the tears drip and fall, and he can't hold them back, doesn't want to. He lets himself cry, caught up in her memory and trying to hold on to it, rather tightly. He doesn't ever want to forget her even as his heart continues to break and fall apart. He needs this moment as it longs to fade from him, and he slumps against her stone.
He no longer can cuddle with her in the morning, feeling a steady warmth that reminds him that he is alive. He no longer can find her with their son, teaching him whatever lesson seems most important that day. She can't brush Adrien's hair back with a mother's thumb, nor can she tussle Gabriel's when he seems too caught up in professionalism.
Emilie can no longer remind him that taking naps is okay or taking a break to be together, just fitting into the sometimes messy or awkward roles of family that shine and mean so much more than what it may first appear to.
He thinks back to every coughing fit, dizzy spell, and moments of intense headaches that she went through. How each one left another crack and another chip in his heart, splintering into crooked, bloody lines where his heart used to be whole. He thinks of how she put on a bright smile and told him or Adrien that she was fine. She'd always been strong, had always worked hard to stay strong.
Gabriel misses the smell of her skin, the way it could calm him down when she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He misses the way that she always seemed to know just what he'd wanted to say, the way that she just was everything that he needed, and the joy that kept him going.
He runs a finger down her grave as if he was gently moving her hair out of her face. It's still a cold headstone that he touches and yet her memory is warm. Gabriel can't even find the words to begin to patch up these broken shards, the remnants of a heartbreak that won't ever completely go away.