Elin’s POV

The scarf I had knitted with my own hands — to Aaron for his twenty-sixth birthday — was nothing but garbage in his eyes?

The thought prickled at me like a splinter. I felt my chest tighten, but I forced my face into a faint smile and replied lightly, “Yes. Some things should have been thrown away a long time ago. There’s nothing left to cling to.”

A cool voice answered behind me. “Really? Then what is it that’s worth holding onto?”

I turned. Aaron was crossing ...