"That's how life goes," Simon murmured.
He looked down at his hands before continuing.
"The people we love eventually leave us."
A quiet silence settled between them.
"But that doesn't mean they stop being part of our lives."
He leaned back against the couch.
"The things they taught us... the memories they left behind... they stay."
Simon turned toward her.
"And I think that's one way they continue guiding us, even after they're gone."
He carefully moved to the other end of the couch, leaving enough space between them that she wouldn't feel crowded.
"You don't have to carry everything by yourself."
He paused.
"Samantha's still here."
"So are your friends."
"Your coworkers."
"...And me."
Ayisha looked at him.
Her vision blurred again.
She wiped the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and let out a tired, shaky laugh.
"You really have words for everything, don't you?"
Simon smiled faintly.
"I wish I did."
He lowered his gaze.
"The truth is..."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I don't know the right thing to say."
"I've been thinking about it ever since we left the hospital."
He gave a small, helpless shrug.
"But I realized there probably isn't one."
Ayisha stared at him quietly.
"So I'm not here because I have the perfect words."
His voice remained calm.
"I'm here because I don't want you to go through this alone."
The room fell silent again.
Outside, the rain began tapping softly against the windows.
Ayisha drew a slow breath.
"When my father died..."
She stopped.
The memory still hurts.
"I thought losing someone would get easier if it happened again."
A bitter smile crossed her face.
"It doesn't."
Simon nodded.
"I don't think it ever does."
She looked toward the hallway leading to Samantha's room.
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do tomorrow."
"You don't have to figure out tomorrow tonight," Simon said.
"Just get through today."
Ayisha let those words sink in.
"You should start to eat now and call your sister." Simon smiled as he stood up to prepare the table.