Page 71 of The Valentine Agenda

"Don't." His voice cracked. "Please don't give me hope."

"Hope?" Mrs. Chen actually laughed. "Oh, my dear boy. I'm not giving you hope. I'm giving you a choice." She stood, gathering her tea things with efficient movements. "The same choice you've always had: Will you show up for her? Or will you let her walk away because you're too afraid to risk being seen?"

She left him there, surrounded by children's artwork and afternoon sunlight and all the evidence of Hannah's influence on his life.

James touched his cold tea cup, remembering how Hannah took hers. How she remembered everyone's preferences. How she'd taught him to notice what mattered not through words, but through quiet, constant example.

And now she was his choice. His only choice, really.

But he'd realized it too late.

Hadn't he?

------------------

James had no destination in mind. He just walked, Hannah's words echoing in his head. Each step took him further from the building, from her, from everything that had started to feel like home.

His feet carried him down familiar streets until he found himself in the luxury shopping district. The storefronts gleamed with the same calculated perfection he'd once prized. Through one window, he caught his reflection—his eyes looked wild, his hair disturbed from running agitated fingers through it.

The jewelry store door chimed as he entered. He didn't know why he was here. What he could possibly hope to find.

"Mr. Park!" The sales associate's smile was bright with recognition. "It's been too long. Looking for something special?"

James almost turned around. But something caught his eye—a small display in the corner, away from the signature pieces that dominated the center cases.

"May I?" he gestured.

The associate hurried to unlock the case. James leaned closer, breath catching. There, nestled among more elaborate works, sat a delicate piece. An apple, crafted with simple elegance.

Just like her necklace. The silver apple pendant she'd worn to Nero's, the one he'd dismissed as unsophisticated. Now all hecould see was how perfectly it had suited Hannah. How it caught the light when she helped children with art projects. How she touched it absently when she was thinking.

"This is from our classic collection," the associate began, already reaching for more expensive pieces. "But I can show you our signature line—"

"No." James couldn't look away from the apple. "This one."

"Are you sure? We have much more impressive—"

"It's perfect," James cut in. Because it was. Not because of the price tag or the brand, but because he could picture Hannah wearing it while dusting the lobby plants. While teaching weather patterns. While being exactly who she was.

This apple pendant was different from Hannah's silver one - where hers was delicate and naturalistic, like something plucked from a fairy tale garden, this one was crafted with classical elegance, its smooth curves catching the light like honey. The gold would complement her silver perfectly, not competing but harmonizing, two different interpretations of the same simple beauty.

He'd once thought luxury meant transformation—turning someone into something impressive. Now he understood Hannah had never needed transforming. She'd always been the most genuine thing in his world.

"Shall I wrap it for you?" The associate's voice held careful neutrality. "We have our signature packaging—"

"Just the box is fine." James was still staring at the necklace. At all the ways it reminded him of her.

He had no idea if he'd ever give it to her. If she'd ever let him close enough to try. But somehow he needed to own this one perfect thing that represented everything he'd learned about real value.

"A romantic gift?" the associate prompted, carefully wrapping the box.

"No," James said quietly. "Just... a reminder."

"Of what?"

James thought of Hannah's face. How she glowed with genuine joy when helping others. How she made every space warmer just by existing in it.

"Of what matters."

---