The diner faded around me—the clatter of dishes, the murmur of voices—all of it disappeared as I stared at those words.
Beside me, the young man spoke softly.
“He asked me to find you,” he said. “Today. At noon. At Marigold’s.”
I looked up at him, my heart pounding.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he gently placed something into my palm—a small object wrapped carefully in a diner napkin.
“Please,” he said. “Open it.”
I took a shaky breath and unfolded the napkin.
Inside was a ring.
A simple gold band. Slightly worn. Familiar.
Too familiar.
I gasped.
“This… this isn’t mine,” I said, though my voice faltered. “Peter only had one ring.”
The young man nodded slowly.
