The days seemed to pass in a blur, each one feeling incredibly long and fleeting at the same time. Katrina had never been one to rush things, but as the days passed with Daniel, she couldn't help but feel like they were building something important, something that had the potential to change everything.
It wasn't always easy, though. There were moments where the distance between them felt wider than it had been before. The quiet moments—when neither of them spoke, but their eyes lingered on each other—felt charged, as if there were unspoken things hanging in the air.
Daniel came in every morning, as promised, but now they spent more time talking, sharing small pieces of their lives that had once felt impossible to discuss. He told her stories of his childhood—of the summers spent by the lake with his family—and she shared memories of her own, of quiet evenings spent reading by the fire, or the way her mother used to sing old songs when she thought no one was listening.
They laughed more now, and each laugh felt like a small step forward, a promise that maybe, just maybe, they could leave the past behind them without forgetting it completely.
But still, there were days when Daniel seemed distant again, when the weight of his grief resurfaced, despite all the progress he had made. There were moments when his gaze would drift, and she would catch him staring out the window, lost in thought as if he had momentarily forgotten she was there.
It was on one of those days that Katrina found herself standing at the counter, arranging a bouquet of white roses. The scent of them filled the air, soft and comforting. She was just about to place the last rose in the vase when Daniel entered the shop, his expression unreadable.
"Morning," he said, his voice quiet, but his smile was absent.
"Morning, Daniel," Katrina replied, trying to read the tension in his eyes. "Everything okay?"
He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah... just thinking a lot, I guess." His voice sounded far away, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders once again.
Katrina's heart tightened. She knew that look. She knew that feeling. The way he would retreat back into himself, shutting everything out, as if the world had become too much to handle.
She set the flowers down and stepped closer, her voice gentle. "It's okay to talk about it, you know."
Daniel didn't immediately respond, and Katrina could feel the silence stretching between them. It was that same space where things had felt too complicated to say, too difficult to voice.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "I don't know how to do this. To move on. I keep telling myself that I'm ready, that I'm not going to let my past define me, but some days..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know how to stop feeling like I'm betraying her by moving on."
Katrina's chest ached at his words. She knew that grief had a way of making everything feel complicated—like you couldn't love someone else without leaving the one you had lost behind. She had seen it with her own family, the way her father had kept his distance from everyone after her mother passed away, afraid that moving forward would mean forgetting.
But she didn't want Daniel to feel that way. She didn't want him to feel trapped by the past.
"You're not betraying her," she said softly, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. "Moving forward doesn't mean you've forgotten her. It means you're giving yourself the chance to live again, to experience something new."
Daniel met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and yearning. "But what if it's not the same? What if I can't love anyone the way I loved her?"
Katrina smiled gently, her heart softening as she looked at him. "Love isn't the same for everyone, Daniel. It doesn't have to be the same to be real. You don't have to compare the love you had for Emily with what you could have with someone else. They're different, and that's okay."
There was a long silence between them as he seemed to absorb her words. Katrina could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between wanting to move on and feeling like he was losing something in the process.
Finally, Daniel sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I wish it were easier," he murmured. "I wish I could just let go of this guilt."
"I know," Katrina whispered, squeezing his arm gently. "But you don't have to do it alone."
For the first time in a while, Daniel's expression softened. He seemed to let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, and a flicker of something—relief, maybe?—passed through his eyes.
"I don't want to be alone in this," he said quietly. "I just don't know how to stop carrying this weight."
Katrina's heart ached, but she knew what she had to say. She wasn't going to let him carry this burden alone, not when they had already come so far.
"You don't have to carry it alone anymore," she said, her voice steady. "I'm here. You don't have to figure it all out right now. Just take it one step at a time. We'll figure it out together."
Daniel looked at her then, his gaze holding hers with a vulnerability she hadn't seen before. "I don't know if I deserve this, Katrina. I don't know if I deserve... you."
Katrina smiled softly, her heart full of tenderness. "You deserve every chance to heal, Daniel. You deserve to live again, and you deserve to be happy. Don't you dare think you don't"
He seemed to hold her gaze for a moment longer, and then, slowly, he nodded. "Thank you."
Katrina felt a warmth spread through her chest. "You don't need to thank me. I just... I care about you, Daniel. And I think you're worth it. You're worth the chance to move forward."
As the words left her lips, she realised how much they were both beginning to mean. This wasn't just about him finding his way—it was about them finding a way together.
For the first time in a long while, Katrina felt hopeful. They had come a long way, and maybe the path ahead wouldn't always be easy, but it was theirs to walk together.