— We were young… and I let her go. I’ve regretted it my whole life. When I learned of her death, I couldn’t help but come.

Since then, I’ve come here every week. It’s my only way of being close to her.

I felt jealousy and anger battling inside me with a strange respect. He loved her in his own way, and even after her death, his feelings hadn’t faded.

I looked at the flowers in his hands and understood: he was neither a rival nor an enemy. He was another person who kept her in his heart.

We stood in silence, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel loneliness — I felt warmth. Because love for her lived not only in me.