Rage contorted his features. He stamped down on the burning album with his polished shoes, trying to smother the flames that consumed what remained of us.
"What the hell are you doing?" he roared, his voice cracking with fury and something that might have been grief. "Have you lost your mind? All of these memories—destroyed because of you!"
I struggled to my feet, brushing ash and soot from my silk robe. The firelight painted warmth across my face, but my voice emerged cold as a blade drawn from ice.
"It's nothing. I opened the album and found insects crawling inside—roaches, perhaps. So I burned it."
Watching my composed demeanor, Luca Haskins finally seemed to realize he'd overreacted. He drew a slow breath, his tone softening into something almost tender.
"Are you alright? I'm sorry—I got carried away." His eyes lingered on the dying flames. "We collected those photographs over ten years, Elena. Weren't we supposed to look through them together at the wedding? Why would you destroy them?"
"If there were insects in the album, you could have waited for me to return. Or at least sent word. I would have handled it." He stepped closer, and I could smell the cloying sweetness of his signature cologne—Black Opium, expensive and suffocating.
I didn't bother meeting his gaze. The man standing before me bore no resemblance to the boy who had once sworn to protect me, who had promised me a place in his world. That boy had been buried long ago beneath ambition and another woman's perfume.
"You're so occupied with Family business," I said flatly. "I didn't want to trouble you with such trivial matters."
He stood beside me, staring mournfully at the ashes as if they held the remnants of something sacred. The irony was bitter enough to taste—he was the one who had burned our decade to the ground for another woman, yet here he stood, performing grief like a man who still cared.
I turned to go inside, but he misread my coldness for wounded anger. His hand shot out, pulling me into his arms. The Black Opium flooded my senses, thick and sweet, triggering a violent sneezing fit. Still, he refused to release me, holding on as though guilt alone could bridge the distance between us.