Then she saw it: a scan of the wedding invitation they never sent. "Together with joy, Vina & Bayu invite you..."
The next day, she returned with coffee and ruthlessness. Wedding folder. Venue contracts. Catering menus. A Pinterest board of flower arrangements she no longer cared about. One by one, she highlighted them. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Vina stared at the message, her index finger hovering over the trackpad. Seven days. It wasn't the storage warning that made her chest tighten. It was the name of the shared folder blinking beneath it:
She had created it years ago, before Bayu. It contained scanned letters from her late mother, photos from her college graduation, and a silly text file of "Life Goals" she wrote at nineteen. 1. Learn to make pasta from scratch. 2. Fall in love. 3. See the northern lights.