Celestine turned away from the lake and locked her eyes on mine. Her chest rose and fell faster now, the black dress shifting with each shallow breath, the fabric catching faint lamplight along its folds.
"The café we went to tonight," she said, her voice steady in that too-careful way of someone who had rehearsed these words in the dark for weeks. "That was supposed to be the last place I was ever seen alive."
I held her hands and said nothing, letting the confession sink between us. My thumbs traced slow, gentle circles over her cool knuckles, the green diamond pressing lightly against my skin.
"This wasn't a date, Abram." She exhaled slowly, her breath misting white in the cold air and hanging between our faces. "You walked me straight to the place I'd chosen to end it."
The street laughter, the shoulder bumps, the way she'd thrown her head back when I joked about her carrying me, all of it replayed in sharp flashes. None of it had felt like a goodbye.
