“About two years ago, I started dating someone. A few days in, she laid out a verbal agreement: a certain number of days each year, she would be with another partner. We agreed on the days together in advance, and on those days I would need to let her be with him. She loves him very much. Honestly, I'd heard about him a few times, and we had even met in the past. Even before I knew we'd be together under this agreement, I understood her completely. You can't give up on a guy like that, he's the best there is. Salt of the earth. On each of those days she goes to him, sits and talks with him, shares her life with him: her work, her successes and her struggles, and also our relationship. They can sit for hours, talking about the future and the past, about everything they did together and everything she still wants to become. And me? Well, I usually wait at home. I give her that; it's part of the agreement. Most of the time she's with me, and when she's with me, she's with me one hundred percent. Every now and then, when we're together, I ask about him: about his career, about their relationship, what there is to learn from him, and how we're different. Over these years, I've discovered that it doesn't bother me. I love her, and she loves both of us. It all happens together, completely. One doesn't overshadow the other. But sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he hadn't been killed. We never would have met. And I wonder whether I'm her blessing, but also part of her curse. Am I doing something wrong, or am I part of the healing? And this too all lives together, and that's okay. When we started dating, I told her that in this world, we're in it until the end. And when we go to the next world, I release her to go back to him and pick up where they left off. And I love her, I love her very much. I love him too. In memory of Major Benji Trakinsky, who fell in the battle to defend Kibbutz Be'eri on October 7 💔” -Nevo Dan, translated from Hebrew.