Chapter 61 - The Portrait Of Pain And Longing

André kept patting Vivienne softly. She lay on the bed, her face pressed against the pillow, her black hair messy and clinging to her cheeks. Her breaths were uneven, shuddering slightly, and her small whimpers reached his ears. She murmured softly, almost like a frightened child calling for her mother. The sound made André pause. He tilted his head, watching her chest rise and fall, the faint trembling of her shoulders. He thought about what had happened to her, why she sounded so broken even in sleep. Something in him stirred, a rare tenderness he had buried beneath years of rage and obsession. The lines of her face, usually sharp with defiance, softened in sleep, revealing a fragility he had never dared to see. He noticed the faint shadows under her eyes, the pale curve of her lips as they trembled ever so slightly. Every detail screamed of pain, of loneliness, and of stories left untold.