Chapter Thirty-One: Soft Enough to Stay
Lena’s POV
It wasn’t the touch that disturbed her.
It was how easy it was.
The brush of her fingers against the cuff of Nikolai’s coat—brief, weightless, almost accidental.
But not accidental.
She had done it on purpose.
She hadn’t meant to.
But something inside her had made the decision before she realized it.
And afterward, she’d kept walking like she hadn’t crossed a line she spent months drawing.
Like she hadn’t just told a man, you’re still allowed near me—without saying anything at all.
She hated that it felt like relief.
She hated more that it didn’t feel like regret.
**
The next morning, she didn’t go to the museum.
She stayed in her apartment overlooking Rue des Grands Augustins, where the fog still clung to the shutters like
