Ryan Campbell’s pov

Before it snowed, I moved all the flowers she had planted into the house. Although it is not the season to bloom and the leaves have withered and fallen, they are still alive at least.

She mentioned the small kettle she had left before and poured water on the flowers. Her eyes looked through the flowers as if looking at something else.

With a long sigh of relief, I put the kettle on the ground and looked at the white piano in the corner, which was already covered with dust.

I will often clean the house, but I have never touched that piano, because all the tunes...