was able to face the horror of burying him. There were no worries over what the neighbours, or his parents or my own parents thought as I clung to him for strength and cried endlessly on his shoulder. The only thing I cared about was what it meant to Keith to provide this precious way forward out of my grief. And I held fast to the look of solace on Evan’s face with the knowledge that his last well-devised plan had been a success. Shortly after the funeral, I moved into Evan’s modest one-bedroom apartment in the city, selling the house – losses be damned. Everything I thought I knew about love, about myself, was turned upside-down during those wintery days. Three years later, Evan and I are supremely happy – really crazy for each other. To our delight, we are expecting our first child, and there’s a cute little two-bedroom house in the suburbs in our future too. I can’t imagine being without Evan. He is a part of me now, as necessary as breathing. Still, Valentine’s Day will always be dedicated to my dearest Keith. Rest well, my love.