I watched Kieran mail flowers to his friends.

I had joked with him once that if the best gifts lasted the longest, then I would gift nothing, because nothing lasts forever.

He told me he would keep giving perishables as a constant reminder to the people he cared about that he remembered them.

Back in the city, despite its relentless pace, he still made time for small things like this.

In fact, we were heading to a nearby café right after delivering the flowers.

“Let’s go,” he said.

It made him happy when he felt he was doing something meaningful.

“Are we really going to eat ice cream? In winter?” I grumbled.

“Maybe.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but he smiled more often than he thought he did.

The café was busy. Kieran sat across from me, quiet. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking anymore. Maybe I never could.

I’d thought about changing for him.

But I wasn’t sure that would still be him holding on to me—or me holding on to him.

He ordered as soon as he flipped through the menu. I used to do that.

He relied on me. I felt good. Useful. Like I mattered.

But if he stopped, even for a moment, and I felt even a trace of regret...

then I wasn’t sure what I was calling care anymore.

After taking a photo of the ice cream for his friends, he ushered us to dig in.

It was strange that he still kept me around when he no longer needed me.

Maybe I still gave him value.

I told myself I was fine with that.

“Sol. Pose for a picture.”

Kieran raised his phone behind him. I turned just in time, while he looked over his shoulder.

A quick snap—and a message sent along with it—before he put the phone away.

He stared out the window at the passers-by, eating slowly. Ice cream didn’t feel suited for winter.

Months ago, he had no one to send photos to. Months ago, he wouldn’t have taken the photo at all.

“Sol,” he said, “let’s visit them this weekend.”

“I’m busy.”

“Well, I’m not going without you.”

I looked up from my food to see him still looking outside. He did that a lot.

The phone he placed on the table lit up. A reply had come in.

“Kieran, someone texted.”

He looked down. He never seemed to like hearing his name, though lately he barely reacted to it at all.

When he opened the photo, I was met with those unmistakable, luminous eyes I’d never forget.

He never talked about Haru. I never asked. The case stayed open on paper. In every other way, it was closed.

He smiled…