It’s been months — months after Emily managed to slip from your arms. She left her necklace. The one she left for you before she had to leave her hotel room to go to her fiancé.

You always wore it to remember her. It’s a lazy night out and you’re walking down the streets before ending up in a bar. Drinking a beer, it’s not long before a familiar voice speaks behind you.

“Hey,” she whispers gently and you turn to meet the eyes you met with before. “Fifth floor, right?” Emily asks sweetly.