We enjoyed two weeks of sunshine and blooming fruit trees before an April storm rolled in. The cold spell blew in over the Sierras, freezing every apple blossom that dared to flower, halting any colorful transitions, and stunting the growth of all seedlings.

But the weather wasn't the only thing to see abrupt and sudden change.

Ian flew into Reno last week, leaving his home, his job, and his life back in New Zealand in order to spend some quality time with his father. And even though my uncle would never admit it, I could tell he was relieved to have a familiar face around, someone willing to fill the empty spaces I couldn't. Plus, there was something incredibly wholesome about a child taking on a caretaking role in his parent's final stage of life. Something sweet about a son choosing to pay forward the love and compassion that was bestowed upon him as an infant. It was a bittersweet cycle, and one that felt intrinsic to the human experience.

Meanwhile, my grandparents had given up fighting Jay on his decision, and they'd visited his apartment multiple times with an assortment of baked goods.  And sure, they forced the man to sit and pray with them every time—for only god knows how long—but he seemed to look upon the coping mechanism with more kindness than before, like he knew it was all he could do to ease their pain.

My mother was still too angry with him to drop by, but she made a point of sending him checks to help pay for at-home hospice care. And miraculously, Jay accepted her payments, which was about as close to reconciliation as the two could get.

As for Theo and me...nothing about our arrangement had really changed, but something had clearly shifted between us. For one, the sex was better than ever, impossibly, and declaring an action 'overkill' felt like a foreign concept to me now.

But more importantly, I no longer felt the need to cling so tightly to him and his world, afraid he might grow sick of me overnight. His vow to stick by my side had eradicated the last of my resistance, the last of my reservations, and suddenly, exploring this gooey feeling inside didn't seem so scary.

It was like Vegas had crushed the wall that prevented this relationship from evolving, and since then, neither one of us had made any effort to rebuild it. We'd agreed to let this progress, naturally, without a contract renewal.

Not that we'd communicated any of that, of course—which Baker thought was a shitty choice on my part. But I felt safe in this decision, in this laissez-faire approach.

I felt safe with Theo.

We spent most of our evenings together now, after work or before our shifts. Sometimes we just studied together in companionable silence, and other times we jumped straight into bed, overcome with the need to be closer. But no matter what, we always managed to fit in a well-rounded meal together, and I was pretty sure I had Theo to blame for the six pounds I'd put on this month.

This Sunday, we lay half-naked in Theo's bed while the world frosted over. He sat against the concrete wall with his guitar in his hands, gently fingerpicking his way through a Led Zeppelin song—and ignoring his incomplete thesis—while I played around with my camera settings and snapped a few inconspicuous photos of his bare chest.

I mean, how could I not capture the gray light streaming in through the windows and splashing his clavicle? That dark, fluffy hair shading his eyes? He was breathtaking.

He grinned at the lens. "I thought your portfolio theme was misconceptions..."

I lowered the camera, smiling back at him. "Who says my barista can't be my muse?"

"Your barista, huh?"

I shrugged, ignoring his adorable lip-bite. "Besides. You're not exactly an open book."

Honestly, who could've known that his insult generator bore such a mushy center? I never expected to find an emotionally intelligent researcher under the surface, let alone a genuinely fun person to be around.

"I think I'm open enough," he argued. "Kids these days just aren't willing to read."

I rolled my eyes. "Kids these days? How long ago did you graduate, grandpa?"

He laughed at that—a dry, breathy sound that sent my heart spinning—and I gazed at him for a moment, overwhelmed with gratitude. I'd only ever dreamed of waking up next to a man like this who looked at me like that. I'd craved this kind of intimacy for so long, and now that I'd actually unlocked it, the whole situation felt surreal. And frankly, too good to be true, especially given my past.

Theo set his guitar aside and leaned over to kiss me. "I'm gonna rinse off before work. Care to join me?"

"As much as I like to compete for hot water under that exposed pipe you call a showerhead, I should probably get going. I told Jay I'd stop by before work and bring him some popsicles." It was one of the few things he could keep down these days, and I knew he was sick of yogurt and chicken broth. I had to get creative to keep his appetite up, even after a little CBD.

"No worries. Stay warm out there, okay?"

We kissed again, holding each other captive for a few extra seconds, struggling to detach, to depart. Then he gave an agonized sigh and peeled away.

He closed the bathroom door behind him, and I stared at the wooden paneling for a while, fighting the urge to chase after him.

God, why was leaving his apartment so damn hard? Even after we'd spent the entire morning together? Was I that clingy? Or was it just a chemical imbalance that fostered my codependency?

I tore my gaze away. Get a grip, Moe.

I put my camera back in its bag and dropped to the ground to search for yesterday's clothes. At some point during our evening shenanigans, Theo had apparently yeeted my bra and underwear into another dimension, because they were nowhere to be found.

Grumbling to myself, I peeked under his bed and spotted the lacy garment in the corner.

A-ha!

After pushing a shoebox out of my way and crawling around an empty guitar case, I snatched the underwear in my fist. Then I shimmied out from under the bed and glanced down at the lidless container I'd extracted—only to freeze at its contents.

Theo had stored a number of random objects inside the box, but sitting at the very top of the pile was a candid photograph of Alyssa.

I stared down at her pretty blond hair and sea-green eyes, deeply unsettled, as if I'd just awakened a poltergeist that simply refused to move on.

A violent hiss of water made me flinch, and I glanced at the bathroom door again, assessing the pros and cons of snooping. This was Theo's stuff, not mine, and he'd chosen not to share any of it with me. I had no right to rifle through his private belongings.

But curiosity—and a churning stomach—pulled my gaze back to the box.

Upon removing Alyssa's photo and a stack of love letters from Spain, I quickly realized nothing in this time capsule was random. This box was a memorial to Alyssa and Theo, the couple, the pair, the item. A box independent from the one sitting unclaimed by the door.

Seashells and river rocks shared storage space with Polaroids, photo booth strips, concert tickets, and a mixed cd. There was also a half-empty bottle of perfume and a custom guitar pick engraved with their initials.

A hole opened up in my chest, and it consumed every last scrap of emotional regulation when my gaze landed on the wedding ring at the bottom of the box.

His mother's, probably, based on the wear and tear of the band and a diamond that could stand to be polished.

His mother's wedding ring. In a box dedicated to Alyssa.

Carl seized my throat, squeezing tight.

Fuck.

With trembling fingers, I placed everything back in the box just as I'd found it. But one of Alyssa's letters caught my eye, as it didn't bear a stamped envelope like the others. The folded parchment simply read, Theo, like she'd dropped it off in his mailbox.

I struggled to swallow around Carl's iron fist.

Do I even want to know...?

I opened the letter, losing my battle with impulsivity. I could hardly see straight as I skimmed Alyssa's elegant handwriting, but I couldn't tell if it was rage, panic, or devastation that darkened the corners of my vision.

O,

You blocked my number, so this is the only way I can contact you anymore. And before you tear this to shreds, no, I'm not asking you to give me another chance. You made it very clear where you stand, and you were right—I was the one who broke us.

I'm the one to blame here, and I will never, ever forgive myself for losing you.

I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I wish I could take it back. I wish we could start over. But I blew it. I fucked up. And I hate myself for it. You were the best thing to ever happen to me, Theo. You helped me become a better person, and your strength continues to inspire me every day.

I don't know how to live without you. I don't want to pretend like we didn't spend six years of our lives together. And I really, really don't want to lose my best friend.

I'm not asking for your forgiveness, but I do wish we could still talk like we used to. Laugh like we used to. Support each other, even if it's from a healthy distance.

I miss you. And I love you, always.

Happy Easter,

Alyssa

By the time I finished the letter, my heart was beating so hard I could feel it pulsing in my neck, warning me of the danger ahead.

I folded the paper along the seams and set it aside, wishing I could turn back the clock and prevent this discovery's deep, nauseating laceration.

Fucking hell...

It felt like my heart was trying to break through my ribcage and run as far away from me as possible. Anywhere but Alyssa's sticky cobweb.

Anywhere but here.

Because sure, I could understand keeping mementos from past relationships—a few keepsakes to immortalize an era—but I also knew that Theo had chosen each of these items for a reason. He'd hand-selected these sentimental tokens of their relationship, despite what she did to him, despite her betrayal.

For some strange, inexplicable reason, he wanted to preserve her love, her affection. Even her scent.

But why?

Why would he ever want to remind himself of the pain she inflicted? Why did he save the love letters she wrote from Spain—the same country that eroded her loyalty? Why did he keep his mother's wedding ring here, with her, with his past?

I didn't get it. I didn't understand.

And what confused me most of all was her apology note. Easter was this week, so she must have delivered it recently, most likely within the past seven days. And instead of reading the thing and throwing it out, Theo had chosen to add it to this hidden box. He'd added another memento to his collection, which meant he treasured it, even after his drunken confession in the pool. Even after telling me their relationship was dead and unrevivable.

Why? Why would he do that?

You know why, Carl whispered.

I tried to bury the poisonous thoughts bubbling to the surface, but I was already spiraling.

He's still attached to her, Moe. He'll run back to her eventually. It's only a matter of time.

Six years is just too much history to erase.

I slid the shoebox back under the bed and packed my things, grounding myself before the panic took hold. It's just a box, I assured my brain, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt. You're overthinking it.

I forced my eyes shut, blocking out the images of them kissing and laughing in the photo booth. 

It's just a box...

I drove to Grounds two nights later, refusing to let my illicit probing ruin our evolving situationship—and determined to keep that wall in shambles. We'd come too far to let my insecurities spoil such a good thing.

And it was good. This. Us. Whatever we were doing. Wherever we were going.

Discussing my inner turmoil wasn't exactly the date night we'd discussed, but I couldn't carry this weight any longer. I had to come clean about the box, and even worse, my ugly, ambiguous feelings.

And who knew? Maybe there was a perfectly sensible reason behind the shoebox. One that didn't point to lingering affections or sprouting regret. Perhaps that positivity made me naïve, but as soon as I gave into Carl's assumptions, it was all over.

And I wasn't ready for it to be over. 

I strode into Grounds at the tail-end of Theo's shift, expecting to see the barista's red beanie and playful scowl across the counter. But in his place stood his coworker with the faded blue hair and horseshoe septum piercing.

"Hey...is Theo here?" I asked.

She threw me a bored look over the register. "He took off a couple hours ago. Said his ex broke down over the pass."

The pressure returned to my throat like it never left, and my reply barely made it out of my swelling larynx. "...His ex?"

"Yeah. She called him all panicked, so he left to dig her out of the snow." Curiosity swam in her eyes. "He didn't tell you?"

No, I thought sourly, pulling my phone out of my jacket pocket as I walked away. He didn't.

I moved toward the window to inspect the Sierras, and my insides coiled at the sight of dense, angry clouds crashing over mountain peaks like a pyroclastic flow. A storm that big would swallow up any travelers in its path, including Theo, who went to save Alyssa on a school night...in the middle of his shift.

Are you surprised? Carl taunted.

My phone call went straight to voicemail, and I stared out at the blizzard, trying not to catastrophize.

Alyssa had called him. Called, which meant he must have unblocked her phone number after reading her letter. He'd reopened a channel of communication, and that fact alone sent me down a rabbit hole of anxious hypotheticals.

Had her cry for friendship actually worked? Was the man so moved by her apology that he decided to unbolt the door to his heart? Or was I simply in denial about the nature of their relationship?

I ordered a cup of tea to soothe the festering paranoia in my gut. Then I sat by the fireplace with my backpack in my lap, watching the owner's yellow lab tear into a bone stuffed with peanut butter. On any other day, those round, focused eyes would have made me laugh, but right now, I just longed for a pastime as distracting as that bone.

Ten minutes later, Theo called me back.

"Hey, sorry," he greeted me. "I'm driving through Baxter right now, and the reception is shit."

I didn't even know where to begin. "...Baxter?"

"Yeah. It's a long story."

My stomach dropped to my pelvis. Was he going to explain why that was? Or was he going to make me ask what—and whom—he'd driven there for? "I take it we're not going to the movies then?"

He swore loudly, and I could picture him tilting his head back and crushing his eyes closed, genuinely upset at himself. "I forgot we talked about meeting up tonight. Fuck. This is why I have to write everything down on my arms!" He let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Moe. Raincheck?"

I gazed at the glowing embers beside me, my body slowly sinking into the button-tufted chair.

Sinking, sinking, sinking.

"Moe?"

"You're with Alyssa right now?" I whispered, failing to conceal the accusation in my voice.

The roar of his snow tires filled the pregnant pause. Then, "I wasn't going to tell you until I got back. I didn't want you stressing over nothing."

Too late for that. "Okay..."

"Believe me, I'm not thrilled about it either," he went on. "But she's got this tiny ass car with two-wheel drive, and the thing slid off the road into the snowbank. Her friends are morons, and they can't drive in these conditions, so she called me." I could hear the agitation in his voice, like he was frustrated with his own gallantry. "I'm really sorry to bail on you tonight, but I couldn't let her freeze to death."

Well, how the hell could I argue with that?

No, you should definitely let your ex suffer alone on the side of the road in the middle of a blizzard?

She cheated on you, so she deserves it?

What gave me the right to feel angry over his choices anyway? We hadn't set any boundaries regarding Alyssa. We weren't dating. 

"Do you want me to wait up for you?" I asked quietly.

He hesitated. "I...no, it's okay. We're closer to Sacramento than Reno, so I'm just gonna drive her down to her friend's place tonight. I'll probably crash there and head back tomorrow."

I heard Alyssa murmur something from the passenger seat, and when he ground out an unintelligible response, she laughed.

"Shut up, Lyssa."

"You're so mean!"

"Can you please just fucking...god...shhh!"

A ripple of feminine giggles sent a bullet through my heart, and I suddenly felt cold, despite the heat radiating from the fireplace.

Cold, and well on my way to icy.

"Okay. Drive safe," I got out, unwilling to draw this out any further in public. Nosy students and teaching assistants kept shooting me wary glances, and I'd had enough.

"Thanks. I'll text you when I make it."

We ended the call, and his coworker awkwardly approached with my tea in hand. She winced at the dejected look on my face and set my mug down on the coffee table. "That's gotta sting, huh?"

I didn't respond, too anxious to even think of a coherent sentence, but when I looked inward, I could see it again: the old partition wall I thought I'd destroyed.

Back where it was meant to be, and as thick as concrete.