Athena remained where she was, long after Christian had left.
The chair across from her still felt occupied, as if his presence had not yet fully lifted from the space. The faint warmth lingered, subtle but enough to make the absence more pronounced. Around her, the restaurant continued as it always had—quiet conversations, soft music, the clink of glass against porcelain—but it all felt distant now, like something happening behind a thin layer she could no longer quite step through.
She lowered her gaze to the table, her hands still loosely clasped together, as though she had forgotten to move them. There was no sudden collapse, no dramatic unraveling. Just a slow, steady awareness settling into her chest.
They had been good.
That was the truth of it.
Not perfect, not without its fla
