She asked, looking up at me, “you and I find that we don’t love each other anymore? Then you and I, what do we do then?” She fidgeted her delicate fingers about. She almost didn’t want to hear my answer, but I spoke up anyway.

“You and I,” I said, ruffling her pale black -almost dark blue- hair softly. “We’re detectives, aren’t we?” I smiled. “Then we’ll just find why and how we stopped loving each other, so we can fix that. Then we’ll go on loving until we fade away. That’s what love is, right? To allow ourselves to fix each other without leaving. To stand and wait until we’re both ready.” I ran my fingers through her hair, flat due to excessive hat-wearing, probably. “And we love each other, right?”

She nodded, grabbing my hand. “Y-yes, but…” She looked hesitant to ask, but I knew exactly what she was going to say. As to spare her the awkwardness, I put my index finger on her lips, soft and wet, trembling.

“But what if I left? What if you did? Then I’ll wait for you, as you will. Then when we’ve forgiven and forgotten, we’ll come back home.” I leaned down to kiss her. “Happy birthday, dear,” I said, pulling a small necklace out. “I haven’t forgotten, after all.” I put the necklace on her slender, yet long neck. Her dark blue eyes beamed as she touched the ring. The clock struck midnight. Then a very special day became another very special day, because, with her, every day is unique and wonderful.