The night passed quickly, Niccoló was still in the position he was last night in, mentally and physically. Mentally as the memories of his own past haunted him, and physically as he laid on the bed, his legs sprawled in front of him, and Scarlett in his arms and him hugging her, keeping her as close as he could, the chilly morning of the start of the November blew away as the branches of the tree swung in the direction of the wind, Scarlett was still sound asleep as Niccoló groaned and tried to stretch but then remembered last night, and remembered how Scarlett, his own wife, whom he never had expected to love him, told him that she loved him.
Niccoló didn't prepare for the day, he did not wanted to bring up those words, the confession, and he wanted to dodge the feeling as long as he cou
