The drive back from Cap Ferrat is silent. The wind softer now, her scarf folded neatly beside her. His bracelet still warms her wrist. But it’s the locket she fingers absently that keeps her pulse steady.
Inside, a photograph, blurred at the edges, like a memory resisting time. Outside, the gold catches the evening light almost alive with it.
She wonders, if he knew she still has it… would he come back?
