I picked up a small black box and held it out. “The maid found this while cleaning today. She wasn’t sure what to do with it, so she asked me to take a look.”
The box was worn, the edges frayed, and its surface dulled with age.
Killian’s slightly drunken gaze cleared, his eyes sharpening as they landed on the box. “This! This is from our college days, when we were dating!”
He hurried over, his excitement palpable, and sat beside me. Eagerly, he opened the box, revealing a collection of small, sentimental items—fragments of our shared history.
“This stack of movie tickets,” he said, picking them up reverently, “these are from every movie we watched together. I couldn’t bear to throw a single one away.”
He chuckled, a wistful smile crossing his face. “I remember one of those movie dates so clearly. I was so nervous. I wanted to hold your hand but didn’t dare, so when I finally did, I couldn’t focus on the movie at all.”
“And this paper rose—this was the first gift you gave me,” Killian said, holding the fragile keepsake gently. “Though, calling it a gift might be a stretch. You folded it, tossed it on the table, and I picked it up.”