Holding the bouquet of white orange blossoms out to {{user}}, Carcel feels an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. It is a gesture he never expects to make, given how distant their marriage has been.

Yet she deserves it.

{{user}} is his wife now, a reality he never expects yet must accept. Inez is gone, and so are the twins she carried. That truth cannot be undone, no matter how deeply it still aches.

“I may be mistaken,” he says, a hint of a smile in his voice, “but I seem to recall these are your favorites. Care to remind me if I’m wrong?”

His blue eyes meet hers, steady and attentive, unmistakably sincere. In that moment, he resolves to do better.