Chapter 4

The moment the screen refreshed, my fingers shook uncontrollably. I scrolled all the way to the bottom, tracing his posts back to the very beginning.

One of his earliest captions read, "I came to find her after all. Turns out, she never let go of me either."

Attached was a photo of two hands, fingers tightly intertwined beneath the night sky.

That day had been my birthday.

In our seven years together, Kate never missed sending me birthday wishes right on time. But that year, I sat holding my phone, watching the minutes tick away into the morning without a single word from her.

It wasn't until the next morning that she finally messaged me. "Happy birthday. Work was crazy yesterday. I completely lost track of time."

Swiping down, I found another photo.

Two silhouettes stretched long across the snow, bleeding into one another.

The caption read, "She told me that since I got here, the stars look beautiful to her again."

I remembered that day vividly, too. I had just operated on an HIV-positive patient, only to realize my surgical glove had torn.

As I waited for the lab results, my mind went entirely blank. Fighting back tears, I called Kate, desperate just to hear her voice, but she never picked up.

When the results came back negative, I slid down a hospital wall and wept in the corner before forcing myself back to patient rounds.

It turned out that she hadn't been busy. She was just looking at the stars with him.

Further up was a video.

Kate stood before the camera in her heavy research gear, flashing a radiant smile. She said, "Thanks for doing the interview with me today. There's a reward waiting for you tonight."

On that exact day, Rosalie had wandered off again. As her Alzheimer's advanced, she had completely lost her sense of direction.

When the news reached me, I was in the middle of a department meeting. I had to swallow my pride, raise my hand, and say I had a family emergency. My department chief's expression darkened, but he gave me the nod.

I spent five agonizing hours scouring the streets, searching until my vision went blurry from sheer exhaustion.

By the time I found Rosalie, brought her home, and bathed her, it was nearly midnight.

Later, I got a text from the chief. My unauthorized departure had cost me my entire bonus for the month.

My thumb moved mechanically, scrolling down the screen. Soon, I reached the latest update.

"It's her birthday today. The present I got her is going to make her knees go weak. Letting her unwrap it all night."

As I stared at the words, a crushing weight tightened around my chest until I couldn't breathe.

I pushed myself up, opened the door, and stumbled out into the hallway.

Leaning against the wall, I gasped for air. The biting chill of the corridor finally brought a semblance of relief.

When I looked up, Kate was standing a few feet away. She stared at me, rooted to the spot.

Slowly, she walked over and rasped, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to spend your birthday with you."

Kate's lips twitched into a strained, unnatural smile. She led me back to her room.

Nathan was already gone. But as my eyes scanned the room, I noticed a stray leather belt sitting on the vanity and the faint scent of cigarette smoke in the air.

The picture frame on the nightstand was missing.

It used to hold a photo of us from our senior year of high school. Two awkward teenagers leaning into each other, smiling shyly.

Now, the space was empty, covered with a thin layer of dust.

Suddenly, Kate darted to the bed, yanked something from beneath her pillow, and shoved it hastily into a drawer.

Her movement was lightning fast, but I caught it anyway. That was a tiny, flimsy scrap of black lace.

I looked down and said nothing.

That evening, we lit candles and cut the cake, trying to mimic the routines of our past.

She handed me the first slice. I took it and forced a bite.

As Kate ate, she rambled about life at the station. She said the polar night felt endless this year, the data was better than last winter's, and it wouldn't be long before she could transfer back home.

I listened, nodded, and offered quiet responses whenever needed.

It sounded just like any of our conversations over the last ten years.

Then, her phone buzzed. When Kate glanced down, her expression froze instantly. She shot a quick look at me and cut the call.

But the phone rang again, the tone echoing sharply in the quiet room.

"Why don't you answer it?" I asked.

"It's nothing. Just a spam call," she replied, casually pressing the reject button again.

It rang a third time. She gripped the phone tightly, a subtle panic flashing in her eyes.

"Just take it," I said quietly.

She hesitated for a beat before answering. When she hung up, she looked at me anxiously. "There's a batch of observation data that needs verification. It's pretty urgent…"

Noticing that I remained silent, she turned toward the door.

"Kate," I called out.

She stopped at the threshold.

I stared at the familiar silhouette of her back. "Can you stay?"

She didn't turn around. The silence stretched between us for a long time.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's for work," she said, her tone dismissive.

My voice was barely a whisper. "If you walk out that door, we're done."