Lucien had always believed silence meant conclusion.
If no one called.
If no one updated.
If no one returned.
Then whatever happened must have settled itself.
That had been his logic three years ago.
Aira was pregnant when she left.
That was fact.
He had seen the test.
He had heard the doctor confirm it.
He had watched her walk out of the hospital with eyes that refused to look at him.
After that—
Nothing.
No message.
No announcement.
No argument.
No demand.
Just absence.
He had told himself she would reach out if there was something to say.
She never did.
And he never chased.
Not because he didn’t care.
But because pride and confusion can disguise themselves as dignity.
Now, standing alone in his hotel room in New York after seeing her again, he realized something u
