"Never," he says without hesitation, and the certainty in his voice makes my heart ache. "With the right person, it's simple. Even when it's hard, it feels simple because you never question if it's worth it. It just is. When it came to Grace, the answer was always yes."

"Was it terrifying?" I whisper, thinking of my own heart and its dangerous tendency to leap before looking. "Knowing something so big, so certain?"

"Terrifying?" He tilts his head, considering. "A little, maybe. But love, the raw and honest kind, has a way of silencing fear. No relationship is all sunshine. But two people can share one umbrella and survive the storms together." His eyes meet mine, knowing and gentle. "It's not about being perfect or easy—it's about being certain the person standing by your side is the one you want to be sharing an umbrella with."

I smile, imagining a younger version of Alfie falling for the woman he describes with such tenderness.

"You and Gracie really were soulmates."

He leans back in his chair, his gaze distant but warm.

"What we had was more than love—it was a connection that reached the deepest parts of who we were. We were better together. When you find someone who doesn't try to fix you or complete you but shows you how to be the best version of yourself, that's the person you want by your side through the depths of heaven and earth."

His words settle over me like a warm blanket, their weight and wisdom seeping into the cracks I've been trying to make sense of. I think of Nate, of the way he sees me—really sees me—even when I'm trying to hide.

"That kind of person won't pick up the pieces for you," Alfie continues, his voice gentle but firm. "They'll remind you that you're strong enough, capable enough, to do it on your own. But they'll always be there, steady and unwavering, offering a hand if you need it. They won't let you fall."

The parallels to my own situation hit so close to home that my chest tightens. I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady.

"But what if you're scared of losing them?"

Alfie's eyes soften with understanding. "It's the gaps in life that will teach you what's worth fighting for, Nora. The spaces between what we want and what we have—that's where we learn who we are."

I tilt my head, intrigued despite the ache in my chest.

"How do you mean?"

"Well," he says, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "think of it like this: what's the difference between a space and a room?"

The question catches me off guard. "Is there one?"

"Would you call an empty space a room? Or does a space only become a room when it holds something—when it has purpose?"

"I guess that makes sense," I say slowly, following his train of thought.