We got coffee that first day. Then dinner the next week. Then walks in the park, movies, late-night phone calls.
I told myself it was grief support. That I was just connecting with someone who understood loss. That it had nothing to do with how much she looked like the woman I loved.
I was lying.
Three weeks into my new life, Mira kissed me.
We were on her couch, watching a documentary about quantum physics — she said it reminded her of Nina's interests. She looked at me with those familiar eyes.
"I know this is complicated," she said. "I know I'm not her. But I feel something with you, Alex. Something I haven't felt in a long time."
"Mira—"
"Tell me you don't feel it too."