Emma thought that maybe you needed to let go of something so that something else, something better, could come your way.

Except she didn't know what that something else was.

And right now, the future was just a blank canvas. But maybe that was the best part about life – its unpredictability. Not knowing where the multiple roads in front of you lead, not knowing where one choice could take you.

She closed her eyes briefly and thought about that day back at the hospital. The conversation she'd had with Flo was vague and forever etched in her memory all at once. She remembered how Flo hadn't said a word after that; she'd stayed stock still, frozen in place for what seemed like forever. And Emma had taken the elevator down, leaving everything behind her – Dylan, the past, and all the what-we-were and could-have-been's in between.

It seemed like lifetimes ago, when in reality, it had only been two weeks.

Two weeks of struggling to return back to some semblance of normality, trying to remember the way things had been pre-Dylan. Two weeks of being surrounded by kids – both at her job, which she threw herself into; and whenever she dropped by Scout's after work to lend a helping hand to her friend, who seemed entirely frazzled by the prospect of having a new baby who seemed to scream at every waking hour. Two weeks of early morning coffee runs and sweater weather, because it was closing in to December and Emma absolutely loathed the chill. Loathed it with every frozen fibre of her being.

"Next."

The sharp, unfamiliar voice jolted her out of the little reverie she'd sunken into. Emma opened her eyes and realised that the person in front of her had finished ordering. Smiling apologetically at the young girl at the counter, she stepped forward and rattled off her order.

She paid the bill and stepped aside when she was done, leaning against the counter and waiting for her coffee to be done. Her eyes followed the barista as he made her coffee, absentmindedly checking if her order was right. Roasted coffee beans. Less milk. Less sugar.

In retrospect, Emma realised she drank her coffee a lot like the way the whole idea of love was – bittersweet.

She almost smiled in amusement at that thought. It kind of was the perfect balance.

She received her coffee minutes later and eagerly wrapped her fingers around the cup. The warmth from within soaked through the Styrofoam and into her frigid skin, like the warmest of suns on the coldest of winter days. Murmuring polite excuse-me's under her breath, Emma carefully navigated her way through the crowd in the coffee-shop. She braced herself when she reached the main exit, blinking away the sudden chill that nipped at her eyes when she opened the door to let herself out.

Only to freeze in her spot when she saw the person standing barely a few feet away from her.

Dylan looked far better than the last time she'd seen him – most of his casts and bandages gone now, save for the remaining one on his right foot. His hair was matted against his forehead as a woollen cap was pulled over his head, but the jacket he wore seemed far too thin for such frigid weather. No surprise there. She was always averse to cold and he never was.

His eyes lit when he saw her, and Emma could barely think, barely breathe, when he closed the last few steps between them, bracing his arms steadily on his crutches. Some rational part of her mind screamed at her in the background to go forward and help, but really, she was just so taken aback that she found herself awkwardly rooted where she was.

"Emma," was all he said when he was close enough. His voice was soft and her name threaded out in wisps of air. That was just how cold the weather was but Emma, suddenly, felt warm.

She blinked when he realised he was waiting for her to say something now. But what? What else could she say when she'd pretty much said all she had to? What could you say to the one person you loved so much, so much that no words in all the languages in all the world would ever suffice?

All Emma thought at that moment was how complicated she'd made it been previously. And maybe, this time, it could just be that simple. Taking a deep breath, she locked her gaze on his and gave a brief nod. "Hi."

"You didn't stay."

Her forehead creased in faint confusion. "What?"

"You didn't stay – " he repeated, and he spoke slowly, hesitantly, like he was just as uncertain as she was, like he was testing the waters between them just as tentatively as she was. " – when I told you not to go anywhere."

Emma swallowed. "That's right."

"Why?"

She faltered now. The question was so unexpected and direct, something she hadn't ever expected him to ask. It was a simple enough question though. The answer just never occurred to her.

Not until now.

"I was scared," she admitted, watching carefully as his eyes widened fractionally in evident surprise. It was clear he hadn't expected her to say something like this, but truthfully, her answer surprised her just as much as it did to him. "I didn't know what would happen. And I didn't know how I should react once it did happen. So I didn't want to stay to find out."

He exhaled. Glanced away, then back at her again, his eyes locking onto hers. "I still can't figure you out," his voice was quiet, thoughtfulness, laced with a hint of frustration. "You, all of you – that's the only piece in my life that hasn't quite fallen into place. Everything else – like my job, my college experience, what I've been doing recently – it doesn't matter if I forget them and can never remember them again. But you're – " he pressed his lips into a firm line for a moment, clearly struggling to find the right words to say before continuing, " – you're that piece of the puzzle that I want to make sense of. Even if it takes me a day, a month, a year, a lifetime."

She felt something in her chest pull, something gravity-defying, something earth-shifting, and knew that she was still very much in love with him. Maybe she always would be. Instead, she kept her thoughts to herself and let her lips curl up in a tiny smile. "You did always have a knack for figuring out puzzles eventually."

"So help me," he said, the unexpected plea in his voice rendering her silent once more. "Teach me everything. Tell me who you are to me."

She knew from his statement alone that he wasn't looking for a simple answer, like 'girlfriend'. He was looking for an answer more concrete, perhaps even something that transcended just a simple label. Only –

"I don't know," she replied evenly, shrugging when he frowned. "I don't know who I am to you."

She could tell his answer threw him off, and it took a good few seconds for him to recover, asking, in an almost frustrated manner, "how could you not know?"

"Because you never told me. I never asked, you never said. Works both ways too – we never had to tell each other these things. We just knew. I know who you are to me."

He never took his eyes off her, not for one second. "Who?"

She smiled. Shifting away slightly so that she wouldn't block the main exit of the coffee-shop, she took several steps away to a more secluded corner, pausing as he swiftly caught up. "You explained to me once about something called Singularity – a point at which a function takes an infinite value. Like in astronomical entities such as the centre of black holes, in space-time where matter is extremely dense."

He stared at her in silence, confusion still laced in his features.

"You're my singularity," she said simply, watching as the confusion on his face slowly cleared, bit by bit, inch by inch, until he was staring at her like someone he saw for the first time, only to subconsciously realise that he'd already seen her, time and time and time again. "You're my 'here', you're my 'now', but you are also my 'infinite'. If I believed in reincarnation or alternate realities, then I know that every single version of me will love every single version of you, with very single fibre of all my beings. Because that's just who you are to me. I don't know why, I don't know how. You just are."

She could hear his sharp intake of breath at her words, but she met his gaze squarely. No backtracking. No reason to take her words back because she meant them. But she wondered if, perhaps, it was a lot to internalise at the moment.

It probably was.

Stifling a smile, she shook her head slightly and tactfully switched the subject. "So how've you been?"

He blinked. "Huh?"

"How've you been? How's physiotherapy going?"

It took him a good few seconds to gather his senses about him and offer a decent reply. "I'm good," he said measuredly, his eyes still gazing at her intently, like she was a specimen worth examining over and over and over again. "I'm healing."

"That's good to know."

"Flo's – no longer a part of my life," he blurted, his tone urgent like he wanted to convince her, his words taking her by surprise. When she stared at him unsurely, he shook his head, a bitter smirk slipping across his face for a moment. "She told me herself – that she hadn't told me the truth, that some things she said were fabricated because she wanted us to start afresh. I told her to leave."

Emma didn't know what to feel. On the one hand, a part of her was satisfied that Flo had at least tried to set things right. She wasn't a bad person – just trying to hold on to something that no longer existed. It seemed almost like what Emma had originally tried to do. On the other hand, Flo had clearly lost a lot. And Emma felt a pang of sympathy for her when she thought about Flo having to lose one more person.

"She just wanted a second chance," Emma said at last.

"I know," he said easily, "and I wanted a second chance with you. It was either you or her; and it hasn't been her for a long time. I know that now. I'm just sorry it took so long for me to figure out."

Emma couldn't quite stop the teasing grin from curving her lips. "I guess you're not so good at solving puzzles after all."

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and it was like finally feeling the sun on her skin after a long, cold winter. Everything about him radiated warmth, and now it was directed at her. Just the way it had been before. Just the way it would be from this point on.

"So I've never told you anything," he clarified, one last time. "I never told you who you are to me, or what it is about you that I had to get this," he raised his hand, her name still inked across his wrist, "what it is about you that I wanted to never to forget."

Emma smiled and shook her head. "You really didn't."

He stared at her for a few stuttering heartbeats, his eyes intent on her face. It felt like he was trying to commit every inch of her into his memory, the new blank slate that he'd been left with. And then he straightened. Leaned one of his crutches against the wall, balancing himself easily. He took a final step closer, so that she had to tilt her head up if she wanted to look at him.

"I think I've got it figured out," he said quietly, his voice only for her ears to hear, his breath warm on her cheek. "Let me try something."

Emma just nodded, knowing exactly what it was that he wanted to do.

So when he leaned down, breathed out her name, she didn't move away. Keeping one hand braced firmly on his crutches, he reached up with his other hand to brush his thumb gently against her cheek. Up close, she could tell that he was nervous, scared, like it was their first kiss, even though they'd kissed so many times before. And still, like that first time, like every time she waited for him to kiss her – she was already breathless.

She shut her eyes.

When he kissed her, her world shifted right back on its axis once again.

And kept spinning.

- F I N -