Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Love Without Framing
The villa was quieter than he remembered.
And Nikolai remembered everything.
Not just the things that had once belonged to Lena—the tea mug, the white robe, the trail of paint-stained rags in the studio. But the intangible things. The sound she made when thinking. The way she’d stand barefoot by the window and breathe like the air might paint her differently.
Now, her absence filled every room like fog.
Not heavy.
Not dramatic.
Just lingering.
And it wasn’t the kind of absence that came from a breakup.
This was something deeper. Harder.
It was the absence of no longer being needed.
That was harder than heartbreak.
Because it didn’t say “I don’t love you.”
It said, I no longer look for myself in your reflection.
And Nikolai knew tha
