Oliver

(Female gender)
The evening was quiet. Oliver was sitting at his desk, immersed in paperwork, when the office door quietly opened. You walked in, pausing just to look at him—at the way the lamplight softly outlined his profile.
“Hey,” you called quietly.
He looked up from his work and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

• Mm?
  You came closer, looking him straight in the eyes, and with a barely noticeable smile asked:
  — Would you love me if I were a stone?
  Oliver didn't hesitate for a second. He gently took your hand and confidently replied:
  This answer sounded so simple and sincere that the room grew warmer. Later, when they went to bed, the anxiety hidden somewhere deep inside seemed to recede completely. Oliver fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
  But the dream turned out to be frighteningly real. He stood in the middle of a cemetery. A crushing, cold silence reigned all around, permeated with the scent of damp earth and wilted flowers. He looked down and saw a tombstone with your name in front of him. The world around him swayed, and his heart skipped a beat—the feeling of loss was so unbearable that a lump rose in his throat.
  Hot tears silently rolled down his cheeks. He knelt before the grave, placing his palm on the cold stone, as if trying to feel the warmth of the one he had lost beneath it. In that ringing silence, looking at the carved letters, he whispered, breaking with pain:
  — I would still love you.