Andrea took one of the boxes she had gotten and entered her mother's room.
She sat on the floor, opened the drawers, and began placing the clothes into the box, folding them carefully.
From a sky-blue sweater, an envelope fell out. She frowned, put the sweater back in the drawer, and picked up the object.
For Andrea
was written on the outside. Nothing else.
The handwriting was her mother's elegant script.
She opened it. Inside there was a sheet folded in four. She unfolded it and began to read.
Dear Andrea,
If you are reading this letter, it means I am no longer there.
That's all right.
You have done much more than a daughter does for her mother, and I am sorry.
I should have been the one taking care of you, not the other way around.
I am very proud of the woman you have become and, now that you are free, I hope you can live a full and happy life.
I love you and I will love you forever,
Your mom.
Andrea ran her finger over those black letters. Inside her, something echoed faintly.
Perhaps she should feel sad, she thought, but every emotion had been silent within her for a long time.
She folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and set it aside.
Then she resumed putting things away.
---
Zeyang watched the rain pour down and pulled up the zipper of his jacket. He shouldn't have taken the motorcycle that day, but that morning he had been late and the sky had only been slightly cloudy.
He pulled the helmet over his head and finally left the parking lot.
When he arrived home, he tried to take the keys from his pocket, but his hands were numb from the cold and they slipped, falling to the ground. Before he could bend down to pick them up, a hand grabbed them and an umbrella sheltered him.
"Let me," said Lu Shen's calm voice.
Once inside, he turned to look at the sorcerer. "What are you doing here?" he asked, glancing at the water pouring down outside.
"I brought you dinner. On the phone you sounded tired, and I didn't want you going to bed on an empty stomach."
Zeyang smiled. "But you're staying to eat with me."
He nodded.
As soon as he opened the apartment door, Zeyang stopped. The place was in chaos. He hadn't expected guests, and his usual mess had taken over.
"I'm sorry. If I'd known you were coming, I would've tidied up," he said, stepping inside without daring to look at the sorcerer.
The latter pretended not to notice the clothes and objects scattered everywhere and headed toward the kitchen area. "Go take a hot shower. I'll get things ready."
Zeyang remained there a moment longer, dripping and shivering, watching Lu Shen move naturally in that space, then shut himself in the bathroom.
When he came out, with dry hair and clothes and the warmth of the shower still clinging to him, an inviting scent greeted him.
The table was set and Lu Shen was ladling steaming soup into bowls.
The detective's stomach growled and he sat down with a smile on his face.
"I could get used to this," he said, looking at the sorcerer.
The other returned his gaze, then handed him the chopsticks. "Any time you want," he replied simply.
Zeyang felt the day's exhaustion slide away and began to eat, closing his eyes slightly in pleasure.
When they had finished, he made room on the sofa. "Come rest, Shen. I'll tidy up tomorrow."
"I'll make some tea first. It's a blend for seasonal ailments related to the cold," he said, taking a small box from the bag he had brought. "Maybe I should bring you some more," he added, looking at him reproachfully.
Zeyang laughed, crossing his legs and settling more comfortably.
Lu Shen put the water on, starting to tidy the kitchen.
When the tea was ready, he poured a cup and turned to bring it to Zeyang, but saw that he had fallen asleep.
His head resting on the cushion, long lashes shading his cheeks, arms folded against his chest in the forest-green sweater.
He looked around and saw a blanket on the bed; he took it and gently covered him.
He cleared the table, then put the leftover food in the refrigerator. He sat for a moment in front of Zeyang and watched him.
Inside, he felt a strong desire to preserve and protect him. It was an almost painful sensation.
He forced himself to stand, checked that the radiators were still on, turned off the lights—leaving one near him on—and finally left, quietly closing the door behind him.