Dusk had just fallen when Damian stood in front of Elena's apartment door. He raised his hand to knock, hesitated, lowered it, then finally braced himself and knocked twice.
Soon, the door opened. Elena stood on the threshold in a simple white T-shirt and beige trousers. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun; she wore no makeup. Yet the calm in her eyes radiated a strength that reminded Damian why he had ever loved her—and why he had betrayed a woman as beautiful as Elena.
"Elena..." His voice was hoarse. "I need a moment. Just five minutes, if you please."
Elena nodded slowly. "Come in."
Damian stepped in, nerves tight, his gaze sweeping the room.
"Would you like something to drink?" Elena asked politely. Her voice was flat, but not cold.
"No need. I just want to talk."
They sat in
