Chapter Twenty-Six: The Silence Between Frames
The silence in the villa wasn’t empty.
It was echoing.
Like a museum after hours.
Like a church after faith has left it.
Lena had been gone twenty-three days, but her presence lingered like a fingerprint on every polished surface. Her coat still hung by the back door. Her mug sat beside the sink. Her scent—oil paint, citrus shampoo, something quiet and warm—clung to the upholstery like it refused to be laundered out.
Nikolai had never felt haunted by someone living before.
Until now.
He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at the studio door.
Closed.
She always left it open when she was home.
Now, it was shut.
Not locked.
But he hadn’t touched it since she left.
Because some spaces stop being yours the moment you stop b
