The morning sun rose quietly, casting a soft glow over the road. The sky was clear and calm. The wind was gentle. It was the kind of morning that felt peaceful, but there was nothing peaceful in the carriage that carried Ivan and Lydia.
The journey had continued just as it had ended the night before. Silent. Heavy. Unchanging.
Lydia was still reading her book, the same way she had the day before. Her hands moved softly as she flipped the pages. She looked calm on the outside, almost too calm. Not once did she lift her eyes from the book. Not even when the birds chirped. Not even when the horses neighed.
Ivan sat across from her. Still. Still and broken. He couldn't stop looking at her. He tried. He really did. He knew he didn't deserve to look at her. But he couldn't stop. Her presence was the only thing that felt real to him now.
