Contextualizes this phenomenon within Lithuanian culture, societal norms, and romantic expressions.

The week unfolded like a slow, borrowed dream. Jorė learned to make šaltibarščiai the way Onutė liked it—pink, cold, with extra dill. She listened to stories about Tomas as a boy, about a war that passed through these fields, about a love that had lasted sixty years.

"Love isn't a seat reservation, Darius," she said. "You don't get to hold my spot until you decide if you're staying."