He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t leave. Misha stays until the silence becomes bearable. Until I don’t feel her absence quite as deeply.
Somehow, that’s better than anything he could’ve put into words.
Konstantin accompanies me home at the end of the day.
“Your hubby is trapped in meetings,” Konstantin says. “You’re stuck with me.”
After the excitement and then immediate emotional nosedive of this morning, I’m too drained to have an opinion. We ride home in silence and I head straight to the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before turning in for the night.
The kitchen is spotlessly clean with a single light above the sink on for illumination. But it’s enough for me to see a massive pastry box on the counter.
With a familiar little logo stamped onto the brown cardboard.
I lift t
