I type a response. Delete it, then type another. I delete it again and eventually settle on something simple.
Me: I'll see you on Wednesday. Please stay safe until then.
I hit send and shut my phone off before I can see if she replies. I shower, get dressed, and go to my office.
It's a normal Monday in every sense, except everything feels off. Shirley's chipper like always. The same patients I typically see have their sessions and discuss the same behaviors they always struggle with, and I go through the motions.
I write notes, ask questions, but don't really dig deep.
All I can think about is how many hours remain before Blue's sitting in the chair across from me.
At the end of the day, Shirley comes into my office. She has her coat buttoned and carries a white box with a bright blue bow. "We had a delivery."
A pulse of unease hits my ribs. "What is it?"
She shrugs. "The messenger handed me a note that said it's confidential and only for you to open."
My stomach tightens. It's not sharp or painful, but has a slow, sinking heaviness.
Shirley smiles, unaware of the fracture forming beneath my calm expression. She sets the box on my desk. "Have a good night, Dr. Mercer."
I force my voice steady. "You too."
The door closes behind her.
I stare at the box and my breath thins. The ribbon glows under the lamplight, and dread clicks into place inside me with terrifying clarity.
I don't want to jump to conclusions or assume. But the first thought that rises is unmistakable.
Blue.
My pulse kicks, climbing too fast. My hands hover over the box but don't touch it. Beneath my anxiety and the instinct to maintain control, there's a dark, undeniable flicker of anticipation.
She thought of me.
She sent me a gift.
Not appropriate.
She crossed another boundary.
Don't open it.
I shut my eyes, inhaling deeply, yet my pulse won't slow.
I open my eyes again and stare at the bow, knotted perfectly. It's the kind of detail someone chooses when they want to impress and be remembered.
Three minutes pass before I reach for the box, unable to stop myself. My fingers slide over the satin ribbon. I pull, and the bow loosens with a soft whisper. The lid lifts away easily, and inside, resting on a molded white satin inner box, is an hourglass.
My breath catches. It's not just any hourglass. It's exquisitely made of luxurious elegance.
I reach in and lift it out of the box. It's heavier than it looks. The flat top has engraved,Broken, yet still yours.The bottom has,Forever in time.
My blood heats. I continue to assess it.
The hourglass commands the space with a bold presence. The gold at its top and base is rich and warm, engraved with swirlingpatterns that come alive when the light grazes them. Each curve and crest glimmers, hinting at old power and secrets buried.
Between the two gold crowns, the glass forms a perfect hour-shaped silhouette. It's sleek, untouched, and impossibly clear. Inside, the sand is a vivid, electric blue, the same color as Blue's hair and eyes. The particles shift in a steady ribbon that glows against the surrounding depth.
