|Theodore|
The morning unfolded like the ones before it—bereft of warmth, heavy with unspoken words, and suffocating under the weight of Carmella’s indifference.
She drifted through the villa like a ghost, present but distant, her every movement deliberate, restrained. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, her tone polite but impersonal, and never once did her gaze linger on me for longer than a fleeting second.
It wasn’t hostility—not anymore. But the absence of connection between us was far worse. It was a quiet, persistent ache, like a wound that refused to heal. She had built an invisible wall around herself, one I had tried countless times to breach, but every attempt left me stranded on the other side, aching for the woman I once knew.
I told myself to be patient. Again and
