Caspian stood near the window, a glass of whiskey in his hand, though he had no intention of drinking it. The city stretched before him in an endless sprawl of glittering lights, but he wasn’t seeing any of it.
His mind was somewhere else. Somewhere he never let it linger for too long. A life he once had. A woman he had once loved. Rosalind.
Even now, he could hear her laugh—light and effortless, always just a little louder than necessary, as if she couldn’t help but let her joy spill over. It had been one of the first things he noticed about her, back when they were just students drowning in textbooks and sleepless nights.
She had always been different from him. Where he was precise, methodical, ruled by logic, she was instinct, emotion, and the kind of spontaneity he had never underst
