Lydia sat quietly in her room, still wearing her silk robe. Her golden hair was damp from the bath, curling slightly at the ends as it fell over her shoulders. The soft smell of rose and jasmine filled the air, drifting from her skin and hair. The morning sun fell through the window curtains, painting the room in a calm golden light.
She was sitting by her dressing table, holding the small flower necklace in her hand. Her fingers brushed over the cold surface slowly, almost like she was afraid it might disappear if she touched it too hard. Her eyes softened as she stared at it. That same necklace. The one Ivan had placed around her neck that night. The one that never left her mind.
Her lips trembled a little as she smiled faintly. It was the only memory she could hold onto that didn't make her completely break down. The night they shared still felt like a dream—painful, sweet, wrong, and right all at once.
