Every evening, she left a place beside her. At first, people thought it was grief. They told her that time would make the emptiness smaller, that one day she would forget the sound of his footsteps, the warmth of his hands, the way he used to say her name. But the years passed, and she forgot nothing. One winter night, when the world had fallen silent, she felt something beside her. There was no heartbeat. No warmth. No voice calling her home. Only a shape made from everything she remembered. She reached toward it, afraid that even the smallest touch would make it disappear. But when her arms closed around the darkness, it stayed. And for the first time in years, she understood. Love had never promised to remain in the same form. Only to remain. So she held him until morning. And when the light returned, she did not open her arms.