My breath catches as understanding dawns: This is where he slept with Elena.
This is the bed they shared. The room where his wife once lived, once laughed, once loved him… I feel like an intruder here. The air itself feels bottled up, containing memories I have no right to witness.
He hasn’t set foot in here in eighteen years.
And he’s chosen to bring me.
Lukas lowers me tenderly onto the mattress. The bed sighs beneath us, old springs groaning softly at being disturbed after so long.
I look up at him. This must mean something to him, but his eyes are dark and unreadable.
“Lukas,” I whisper, “this room—”
“I know,” he whispers back. “I know what it is.”
He hovers above me, one knee braced on the mattress, the other foot still planted on the floor. Like he’s not quite committed. Som
