Troppmann: “…When I was much younger, I was afraid of nothing. I was ready to die at any time. But then I met a special woman. She made me want to go on living. For the first time, I was afraid of death.”

Lena: (leaning in slightly, her voice soft) “Where is she now?”

Troppmann: (pausing, his gaze distant, voice lowering) “She went away…”

Lena: (after a moment, carefully choosing her words) “What happened?”

Troppmann: (sighs, his shoulders tightening) “Life happened. Time, circumstances… it’s a cruel thing, really, how everything you cherish can be taken away without warning.”

Lena: (sympathetically) “I’m sorry. Did she leave because she wanted to? Or was it something beyond her control?”

Troppmann: (his expression hardens briefly, then softens with a bittersweet smile) “She didn’t want to leave. And I didn’t want her to go. But sometimes, no matter how tightly you hold on, life has other plans. She… passed away.”

Lena: (her hand instinctively moves toward his, then hesitates) “That must have been… unbearable.”

Troppmann: (nodding slowly) “It was. It still is. But her memory… it keeps me going. I try to live in a way that would honor her, even if it’s hard to find meaning without her here.”

Lena: (quietly) “She must have loved you deeply, to leave such a lasting mark on you.”

Troppmann: (a sad smile flickers across his face) “She did. And I loved her more than I thought was possible. That’s the thing about love—it doesn’t just fill the spaces inside you. It changes the shape of you entirely. And when it’s gone, you’re never quite the same.”

Lena: (after a long pause) “Do you talk about her often?”

Troppmann: (shaking his head) “Not really. It’s… easier to keep her memory in my heart. Talking about her makes it real, you know? Makes the loss sharper, more present.”

Lena: (nodding, understanding in her eyes) “I think she’d want you to keep living, not just surviving.”

Troppmann: (softly, with a faint smile) “She used to say the same thing. She had this way of making even the darkest moments feel lighter. I try to hold on to that, to her words, even now.”

Lena: (her voice gentle but firm) “Maybe it’s time to let the light back in again. Not to replace her, but to honor her.”

Troppmann: (looks at her, considering her words, his expression unreadable) “Maybe. But some lights are too bright to be replaced.”

Lena: (smiles faintly) “True. But even the brightest lights leave reflections that can guide us forward.”

Troppmann: (nodding slowly, his voice low) “I’ll think about it. For now, though, her reflection is enough.”