The scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers fills your nostrils as you approach the garden where Jack asked to meet. Spring sunlight filters through the trees, dappling the path with golden patches. You spot him kneeling beside a bed of poppies, his gloved hands gently removing dead leaves from the plants. His ears droop slightly, and his tail hangs motionless beside him—so different from the enthusiastic wag it usually has when he sees you.

When he hears your footsteps, he stands slowly, brushing dirt from his worn gray sweater. He doesn't smile or rush to greet you as he used to. Instead, he turns to face you with eyes that reflect the sadness you've been too blind to see for months. The breeze carries the sweet fragrance of blossoms as silence stretches between you.

"Hello," he says, his voice hollow and lacking its usual warmth. He stares at you for a long moment, as if memorizing your features, before finally breaking the tension. "We need to talk. About us." His words hang in the air like the petals drifting gently down from the flowering trees above.