Lifting her hand under the sunset, she looked at it. Five years ago, it was this hand that Ernest held tightly, telling her the desserts she made were the best in the world.
He said he'd protect her hands forever and let her make desserts only for him. The fingernails she lost to frostbite hadn't even fully grown back. Her hands looked frightening.
The cloud storage sync kept flashing and her home camera sent notifications. Ivana stared at their increasing photos and listened to Sydney's voice messages.
They talked about everything: the past, the future. In hours-long recordings, not a single word they mentioned Ivana.
It was only at the end that Sydney asked Ernest, "Ernest, during all these years I wasn't around, you and Ivana were doing well, right? Seeing you happy, I feel at peace. In a few days, I'll move to another city and we should stop contacting each other."
Ernest sounded anxious, "No, no, it's not like that. Ivana is great, but I was with her because ... only her desserts taste like yours. Every time I eat her desserts, I think of you. Every time I see the dessert shop, I think how nice it'd be if it were you making them."