She knew she ought to leave, that her intrusion on his grief was the last thing he likely wanted at present. However, in the years since their parting, Rosalie hadn't yet been able to release her hold on the invisible string binding them together. Even when she knew it was slipping through her fingers at a dizzying rate, even when she knew he'd fully let go in the aftermath of the modiste. Aside from today, Ezra had been infuriatingly fine since this spring. He'd been able to approach her and attempt a conversation without the heaviness of grief upon his shoulders. Rosalie wished she was capable of the same.

"Would it be alright if I took a minute with you?" She asked from her spot still at the bottom of the stairs.

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