Chapter 11: Farewell to Yesterday

The tin box was familiar—it was the candy box she’d used for small items in Maple Heights. Now, after falling, it had opened, revealing a stack of colored sticky notes inside.

She picked it up, her hands trembling slightly.

"Evan, I’m going out."

She read the notes aloud, her voice soft with nostalgia. "Evan, I’m going grocery shopping. Sleep a bit more."

She smiled at the memory, remembering how she’d always tried to take care of him. "Sis has to go to Silver Hollow."

She traced the faded ink, her eyes misty. "Little Evan, Sis needs to go to the next town..." On the back were two chibi doodles of Lauren and Evan.

She laughed, showing him the drawings. "You always said I was a terrible artist."

She flipped through the notes, stopping at the top one. Her fingers lingered on the paper, her breath catching.

"Evan, be well."

She turned it over. "Sorry."

That was the last note she’d left Evan, the final words, on that cold, windy night. She pressed the note to her chest, tears stinging her eyes.

A long, fair hand pressed over hers, picking up the candy box. Evan’s touch was gentle, his eyes full of understanding.

"Let me."

He took the box from her, tucking it safely away. "Go eat breakfast." Suddenly, Evan seemed to remember something. "Even if it fell, it probably didn’t spill."

He tried to lighten the mood, a small smile tugging at his lips. Lauren teased him with a smile. "Ah, ‘accidentally.’"

She nudged him, her laughter brightening the room. "..."

He rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. She pulled his hand, tugging him toward the kitchen, her grip insistent.

"Let’s clean up later. Come with me now. I remember you didn’t eat dinner last night." She recalled seeing him at the diner at noon, and suddenly asked, "Did you eat well at lunch yesterday?"

Her tone was half-motherly, half-teasing. Evan: "..."

He looked away, sheepish. Lauren frowned. "Breakfast?"

She crossed her arms, waiting for his answer. "..." He realized he couldn’t lie to her.

He scratched the back of his neck, mumbling, "Not really."

"The night before?"

"I ate," Evan replied quickly. He tried to sound convincing, but the guilt was obvious in his voice.

Lauren was speechless with frustration, and finally managed, "Impressive."

She shook her head, exasperated but fond. She remembered in the original story, Evan only lived to twenty-five, dying of stomach cancer.

The thought made her chest tighten. She vowed to make sure he took better care of himself from now on.

While she worried, she was also grateful—at least now, Evan was alive and well before her. She reached over, squeezing his hand in silent gratitude.

The oatmeal was still warm, steaming in the bowl. Lauren watched over Evan as he ate his breakfast sandwich, sipping oatmeal herself. The taste was sweet, familiar, grounding.

She propped her chin on her hand, watching him with a fond smile. Her medium-length hair was loose, and she kept tucking it behind her ear, only for it to slip down again and again.

Evan reached over, tucking the stray strand behind her ear, his touch lingering. The repeated motion made Evan pause and watch her. He smiled, charmed by the familiar gesture.

She caught him glancing at her shirt cuffs, smiled, patted his head, and said, "Eat your food."

She ruffled his hair, her tone playfully stern. She left for a moment, and when she returned, there was a hair clip at her temple and a pair of cufflinks in her palm.

She held them out, her eyes shining with mischief. She’d found them in the dressing room last night. She twirled the hair clip between her fingers, grinning.

Evan had put down his fork, sitting at the table, watching her approach. He watched her, curiosity bright in his eyes.

Lauren knelt beside him, took his casually placed hand, and carefully fastened the cufflinks for him. Her fingers were steady, her touch gentle. She smiled up at him, satisfaction in her eyes.

Evan was silent for a long time, then suddenly asked, "Don’t we look like a pair?"

He glanced at their matching accessories, a shy smile on his lips. "Yeah, like we’re about to head out for Sunday brunch at the diner."