After that day, Leone never left his wing, retreating into the solitude of his private quarters. He didn't let anyone in—not even the servants who usually tended to him.
This saddened Evelina deeply. She often found herself glancing toward the distant corridor that led to his wing, hoping for some sign of him. Each passing day felt heavier, the quiet in the estate growing more oppressive.
One night, as she sat by the window clutching one of the books they had read together, her thoughts spiraled. Did I ruin everything? The question gnawed at her. Evelina had hoped her words might bridge the chasm between them, not deepen it.
Still, she couldn't let the silence linger. Leone's pain was tangible, and though he had shut the world out, she couldn't shake the belief that he needed someone to reach him.
