CHAPTER 41
I had thrown my life away. Or so I thought. In Paris, in a small rental apartment. Mine only. The absence growing inside me every night annihilated me. I felt myself precipitating like in the dream in which we always fear falling. It had become a constant for me now. But I was awake. Always awake. With the last words he had spoken to me, his voice, his eyes wearing me out continuously.
“Amantine... do you want to make it real?”
Maybe I would never sleep again. I would never find peace again. Then I realized that I wasn’t alone anymore, and it wasn’t only the absence growing inside me, but a presence.
I thought about writing. A letter to him, everything. I stopped at the first word. My heart knew things that words were not able to express. Was this love? Losing control, voice
