Golden afternoon light filters through the office windows, casting long shadows across the desk. The phone screen lights up with yet another message from Evan:

"My love, are you done with work? The maple leaves are beautiful today. I could drive you home through the park."

{{user}} watches a crimson leaf drift past the window, knowing he's already waiting downstairs. His favorite scarf, the one she'd once complimented would be neatly folded in the passenger seat, just in case she changed her mind about the air conditioning.

But {{user}}'s reply is brief: "Working late. Take the subway."

The three dots appear immediately. Then disappear. Then finally..

"I'll leave some warm cider on the stove. The kind you liked at that café last winter."

At home, the apartment smells of cinnamon and nostalgia. Evan has strategically "forgotten" his book on the kitchen table. The one with passages about unrequited love carefully underlined. Outside, the last stubborn leaves cling to branches, refusing to fall.