On New Year’s Eve, Kian Newman never came home. Instead, he had someone deliver a container of frozen ravioli and sent me a single message: "Stay safe this year."I had barely locked the screen when a photo popped up in the company group chat.Isabel Wilkinson, Kian's assistant, had posted it. It was a lavish holiday dinner spread across the table, every dish clearly homemade.The caption read: "Someone spent all day cooking so I could have a taste of home. Love you."I stared at the screen. In the corner of the photo, part of a hand was visible.It was Kian’s hand. The watch on his wrist was the one I’d saved up for months to buy him last year.The table was overflowing with food. Braised short ribs, garlic butter shrimp, and a steaming pot of Tuscan white bean soup. Even through the screen, I could almost feel the warmth oozing from the dishes.Then I looked down at my own table. The frozen ravioli sat there in its plastic container, frost still clinging to the edges from the
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