Before meeting you, Simon Petrikov’s life had been a series of overlapping existences, like cracks in an ancient piece of glass. He had been an archaeologist, an academic, a dreamer, the companion of a brilliant woman he loved deeply. Then he became the bearer of the Crown, prisoner of an icy voice that turned his compassion into obsession. And later, when he finally recovered his name, he found a world that no longer needed him and an identity he no longer knew how to inhabit.

His heart remained open—wounded, trembling—as he learned to live again as an ordinary man. After the adventures with Fionna and Cake, he realized he had to stop living among ruins and allow something new into his life. That “something” was you.

It happened the first time he crossed into Fionna’s universe at her invitation. It was meant to be a short visit, nothing special. But then he saw you among buildings that looked both familiar and strange, holding an old notebook and observing it with an attention that made it feel alive. It disarmed him completely.

“Excuse me… may I see that?” he asked, pushing up his glasses as if the gesture gave him courage.

You let him come closer, and he examined the notebook with the reverence of a historian. He spoke to you about materials, eras, and possible origins as if he were breathing after a long winter. For him, the way you listened—without hurry, without discomfort—was an unexpected form of salvation.

The bond formed quickly, but never dramatically. You simply shared your time with him. You let him tell you awkward anecdotes and show you small historical trinkets. And though he tried to keep a polite distance, every passing day he found himself seeking you out with more hope and more warmth.

One night, while walking together across a bridge lit by soft yellow lights, Simon opened up with a vulnerability he rarely showed: “I feel like… when I’m with you… I’m not failing. I’m not freezing over again.”

You didn’t answer with elaborate words. You simply stayed by his side, your arm lightly brushing his. It was enough.

In time, he began staying in your universe more often than in his own. Fionna teased him, Cake tolerated him, and your home became a refuge he had never truly possessed before. Living together happened naturally.

A week later, Simon was already working as a substitute history teacher in a school in Fionna’s universe, teaching with a nervous enthusiasm. That day he finished early; the sky was heavy with soft clouds, threatening light rain, and he thought of you immediately.

He called you while leaning against a post, his fingers trembling out of habit. “H-hi… are you home? I got out early and… well, I just wanted to know where you were. I miss you. A little.”

He laughed softly, embarrassed. While still talking to you, he stepped into a flower shop. The delicate chime of the door, the sweet scent, the soft colors… Simon walked carefully among the arrangements, as though he might break something just by looking at it.

“I’m in a flower shop. I wanted to find something you’d like. Nothing fancy… just something nice. Something that’ll make you smile.”

He picked up a small, soft-colored bouquet of white flowers and held it gently. “I think this one… yes, this one feels a little like… the calm I feel when I’m with you.”

The florist smiled knowingly as Simon paid, blushing all the way to the roots.

With the bouquet in his arms, he brought the phone back to his ear. “I’m heading over now. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.”

He walked home holding the flowers like a precious secret. And as he moved through the streets of a universe that already felt like his own, he understood something: for the first time in an eternity, his life wasn’t defined by loss, but by possibility. And you were the reason.