In Thesolo, people didn’t fear ghosts; they welcomed visions of the ancestors, but the aftermath was called a “second death” because you were forced to grieve again after that brief reconnection.

Oh goddess. Likotsi’s throat was rough. Would she have to go through that pain again?

“I didn’t ghost you. I told you that I couldn’t continue the relationship,” Fab said, the fingers of one hand lifting and her brows drawing together. “You were the one having a fling while in a different country for business. You were leaving, and stuff came up that made it clear I didn’t have time for more heartbreak, okay?”

The train rattled as it rushed through the tunnel, the jerking motions pushing Fab against Likotsi and then pulling her away.

“You never responded when I asked why!” Likotsi’s voice was brittle with a sudden anger as she struggled to be heard over the rattle of the train. Seven months and three weeks! That was how long she’d nursed this sorrow, how long it had been since her desperate messages to Fab had gone unread, and now Fab sat there with her warm brown eyes and bright red lips, calmly explaining that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“That’s not ghosting, that’s—that’s having boundaries,” Fab said gently. “You like knowing things, but the only things that mattered were that you were leaving, I was staying, and I had a life outside of our little fairy-tale trysts. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The train jumped a little on the track and Fab slid toward Likotsi, her body warm.

“Excellent. I give you thanks for taking time to explain boundaries to me. You and your boundaries could have stayed in the other train car if you really cared to enforce them.”

Likotsi turned her head away, focusing on the tunnel lights blipping by at regular intervals. At least now she could finally close this sad chapter in her dating life and move on.

“Hey.” Fab’s voice was soft. Uncertain. “Did you eat yet?”

Likotsi glanced back at Fab. Her smile was wicked, but her eyes were tired and her face was strained.

That’s not your problem, Likotsi reminded herself. She tapped her toe on the ground, reminding herself that her shoes pointed toward the future not the past.

She sighed.

“I had coffee and a butter roll earlier,” she replied. And even though she knew she shouldn’t ask, she did. “Why?”

“Have you had a chance to try dim sum yet? There’s a place near here that’s really good.” She gestured out to the train platform as they pulled into Canal Street.

“I’m not hungry,” Likotsi said.

“You like tea,” Fab pressed. “They have great tea. Unlimited refills.”

Likotsi knew she should say no. She’d made a resolution. She had an itinerary. She was going to walk the city alone, make new memories to blot out the ones featuring Fabiola’s big brown eyes and her warm mouth. She was going to leave behind the itchy anxiety that had come with staring at unread messages in the dating app day after day.

But . . .

Her role as repository of wisdom had apparently also taken the weekend off.

“Dim sum is on my list of things to do.” Likotsi patted the inner pocket that held her handwritten list, and she felt her heart beating fast beneath her palm.

“Can I treat you? To an early lunch?” Fab reached out, but then drew her gloved hands back. “I know this is weird, but I thought I’d never see you again. Like, I’ve been mad busy and this is my first free weekend in forever and—boom!—now you’re here and you’ve been here for months, and—” She took a deep breath. “I’m rambling. I won’t get ahead of myself, but maybe we can start with tea. And some soup dumplings?”

She stood and started toward the door as the train began to slow.

Likotsi stared at Fab, weighing her anger against her yearning, and though hope was a thing with feathers there was nothing insubstantial about it.

If she stayed on the train, she might never find out what Fab had hidden behind those boundaries—what had made her push Likotsi away. If she stayed, her shoes might never point forward.

The doors were open now. The passengers who’d been stuck with Likotsi were shuffling out and those who had crowded the platform waiting were flooding in, churning Fab through the doors and into the station.

Just sit. Let the doors close. Move on with your life.

Then Fab looked back, and those eyes of hers hid nothing. There was no cunning—just cautious expectation.

The scale crashed down in favor of the fluttering in Likotsi’s chest that fanned her anger and her curiosity and her longing.

Likotsi jumped to her feet and pushed past the people entering the train, body stiff as she tried to prevent too much damage to her jacket and suit, making it through the sliding doors just before they shut and the train pulled off.

This was probably a terrible idea, but then again, Likotsi didn’t believe in coincidences. She’d made a vow to let Fab go, and then Fab had appeared, as if the goddess herself had conjured her.

The very practical side of her saw this for what it could be, without the chest fluttering—a reconnaissance mission. She’d spent months creating a shrine to Fabiola in her mind and her heart, extolling all the woman’s perfections and lamenting the loss of them. She’d taken a negligible number of interactions and turned them into some divine experience that she would never be able to re-create with another.