I explained the entire thing to Olive, starting with the moment I met Kal. She skimmed his letter, frowning. Her initial response is not what I expected, but I guess it's obvious how this is gonna go. It's a weird situation, even if Kal had good intentions.

She folds the letter slowly. "This . . ." She shakes her head. "I don't even know where to start with this. Why didn't you tell anybody? This whole time you had this sprung on you and said nothing?"

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I didn't know how you would react. Eleonora would freak out, so there's no way I'm telling her anything until this whole thing is over. She'll probably kill him or something."

Olive is staring at me. "And this guy . . . He likes you?"

I shrug. "We haven't really got to talk about. He's a bit peculiar, so I can't predict his thought process."

"But still. He likes you." She stands up, pacing around the room. "How long have you known him?"

I think for a second. "Like, three weeks."

She's rubbing her temples, trying to make sense of all the information I just dumped on her. I watch as she picks up a bottle of lotion from her nightstand and starts squeezing it. "Listen, I need you to call me, okay? I have work until four tomorrow, but I'll come see you and we'll figure this out."

"Figure what out? Kal is already working it through, but I don't know if I want to find out."

She pauses, shaking her head. "No, no! Luna, you have to finish this. See what you find in the email. You can't just stop. This is exactly what you need right now."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, closure. That's what Kal said too."

"Don't you wanna get better? If you have this hanging on your head for the rest of your life, you'll never move on. You need to find out what really happened to Atlas."

I nod because I don't know what else to say. I tell Olive that I have some things to take care of, and she lets me go. She makes me promise to call her the next after she comes back from work. She also tells me to call Kal, but I'm not sure if I can do that. It's much easier to just walk around the streets until it's late enough for me to go back to sleep and his the reset button.

When I get closer to my area, the space in which I put imaginary borders around, I realize it's not even three yet. There's a lot of things to do around the space I claimed as my limit (a few bookstores, coffee shops, a small movie theater, and a grocery store). All the necessities. There's nothing else I need. Olive's house is much further than the border, but I do make exceptions.

Now and then, I take out my phone and reread Kal's texts. 'It's whatever' plays over and over in my head, but I push it aside and think of something else. I'm not in the mood to dissect a guy's text right now.

I think of checking out the movie theater, but there's nothing good playing. I could pick a seat in the back and read for the next hour and a half, but the just seems like a waste of money. So I pick up lunch and crack open a book on a bench. I didn't realize it was one of Atlas's books until I realized how worn and damaged it was.

This book must be special. Chapter six is falling out of the binding. He must really like this one. I smile and read, not looking up until the sun sets, the world around me turning dark blue.

I recall a conversation we had in high school. He always damaged the library books and thought up excuses. Sometimes, he didn't even mean to do it. The first thing he does is crack the spine and then he grabs a pencil and writing his notes. A few times I picked up books and recognized his handwriting. Some are funny and some are a bit mean, but they're all honest and critical. He would've made an amazing reviewer. I can just imagine his name on all the popular books. They'd struggle to find a good line to quote him on.

"It's not half bad,"

— Atlas Gallagher, The New York Times.

The next time I look up, I see him standing there, staring at me. He looks exasperated like he's been looking me this whole time. His chest is heaving and his hair is messy—even messier than usual. When our eyes meet, he rushes to cross the street, looking over once to make sure he won't get run over.

Kal stares at me for a second before taking a seat next to me on the bench. "What's going on with you?"

I clear my throat and slowly put the book in my bag. "You know the story."

He turns to look at me, his expression furious. "I've been walking around this neighborhood for hours, trying to predict where you would be. You weren't home all day. I hit three bookstores—one of which I was told that you go there often—and seven coffee shops (Did you know there were that many around here?) but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"That's because I wasn't here? I was trying to get a hold of a friend of mine, but she wouldn't answer any of my phone calls. So I went to see her."

"So you know what I'm feeling," he says. He's silent for a minute, taking in a deep breath. "I know you're mad about what I said the other day. You don't get it, Luna, the way you said 'my boyfriend' that day at his house . . . I'm scared for you. The letter isn't what you think it is. I can't be. Atlas is not alive. I know that you're hoping for a miracle and that you're heartbroken after all that happened . . . Especially with your parents, but he's gone."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Look, I'm sorry that I kissed you. I know that you're not in a good place, and I need you to know that I didn't do it because I wanted to help you,"—he takes one look at my expression and then shakes his head—"That's not what I mean. I kissed you because I like you, and not because I want you to move on. I'm helping you figure this out because I want you to move on and be happy and not feel so depressed anymore."

This was the first time someone had said it. The word 'depressed'. It had been lingering in my head for a long time, but saying it out loud puts it into perspective. This would explain the difference in my behavior. It's not just about Atlas being gone. I lost my parents and could still enjoy things. When I fell in love with Atlas, I had lost everything I had ever known. Maybe it's everything happening all at once. I put so much faith in my relationship, thinking it would be my salvation after all the pain Eleonora and I had endured, and then he was just gone. It's a lot to think about.

"Hey, hey." Kal reaches out to wipe the tears off my face. "I didn't mean to make you cry. His voice is softer and he's frantically trying to figure out how to stop me from crying.

I laugh. "It's not you. It just . . . Everything."

"I'm sorry I took back the kiss. I don't want to. The whole day I spent replaying the scene in my head, trying to decide where I went wrong. In hindsight, I knew you weren't ready."

"It's whatever."

He looks scared for a moment before realizing that I was quoting his own text. Kal rolls his eyes, leaning back. The muscles on his shoulder relax a bit as he takes deep breaths.

"You're right, you know. Atlas would want me to live. And he'd also want me to find out the truth. He left too soon, before getting to tell me the whole thing," I say. "We have to figure this out. And I can't do it without you."

Kal smiles. "Partners?"

"Partners."