NIKO.
I hadn’t planned to tell her. The words just spilled. Maybe it was the dim light in the storeroom, the quiet that pressed in around us, or the way Alex looked at me, not with pity, but with a softness that made my chest ache. Or maybe it was because for the first time in years, someone had asked about Eliana and waited for the answer.
I leaned back against the cold metal shelf and exhaled slowly, staring blankly into space as the memories came flooding in. “Eliana was my wife, the absolute love of my life.”
Alex didn’t interrupt. She didn’t rush me. She simply nodded, giving me space, and somehow that made everything harder.
“I met her in Milan,” I continued, my voice rougher than I intended. “She was working as an art conservator. Brilliant. Passionate. She talked with her hands
