Lena didn’t know how long she walked the streets of Geneva.
Snow had started to fall—light and powdery, coating her coat and curls, numbing her fingers. She’d forgotten her gloves in the hotel room. She hadn’t cared. She needed space, distance, anything to quiet the whirlwind inside her.
But nothing helped.
The cold only amplified the heat in her chest—the hurt, the anger, the heartbreak.
Damian had chosen silence again. Secrets again. He let a woman from his past touch him. Kiss him. Threaten everything they’d built.
And still—Lena loved him.
That realization was the cruelest cut.
She found herself near the lake, its black waters lapping quietly against the stone edge. The city lights reflected like broken stars, shimmering and distorted.
She stood there for a long time, arms wrap
