47

"Like ice melts into rain, sometimes love turns into pain.

And how he wished he could take away hers."

Alvaro leaned against the door frame of their room, staring at his wife's back as she remained lying down on their bed. She was faced on the window, the sunset rays streaming light inside.

It's been four days since the night at the restaurant, and after Genevieve cried in the car, not once has she spoken to any of them. Not him, not Emilia, not even Lucy. She shut herself out. And even though he wanted to talk to her, to tell her he was sorry, he didn't try to.

She was collecting herself, in her own space. It was for the best. And he'd let her, even if it takes long.