"Kholod, he..." Noelle hesitated before continuing, "he's been acting strange lately. He..."
Mother looked at her, eyes deep and knowing.
"The more he acts like this, the more it shows he cares."
Noelle was clearly stunned. "Cares?"
"Someone who doesn't care won't waste energy tormenting another person. Kholod's been like this since childhood. The more he cares about something, the more clumsily he handles it."
"But—"
"Don't overthink it." Mother patted her hand gently. "Keep doing what you're doing. Time will give you answers."
I turned and silently left the colonnade.
Mother's words echoed in my head.
"The more he cares about something, the more clumsily he handles it."
She was right.
Damn it, she was always right.
That evening, I entered the library.
Noelle would come at this time—she did every day, without fail.
I'd hidden in advance in the decorative alcove by the wall. Originally, it housed a marble statue, but I'd had it removed a few days ago. Now it could accommodate a grown man.
This was absurd.
The head of the Morozov family, hiding in his own library to spy on his wife.
But I couldn't help myself.
Sure enough, the library door opened shortly after.
Noelle walked in carrying several heavy art books, heading straight for the sofa by the fireplace. She sat down and opened a book about Norwegian fjords, firelight dancing across her face.
I held my breath, watching. From this angle, I could clearly see herlowered lashes, her nose tip reddened by the fire, and her fingertips gently caressing the pages—tender as if touching treasure.
What was she thinking? Imagining standing before those fjords? Or planning her escape?
That thought tightened my chest.
No. She'd never escape.
She belonged to me.
Just then, Noelle suddenly stood and walked toward the bookshelves.
My heartbeat instantly accelerated.
Damn, what book did she want?
She stopped before the tall bookshelf, looking up at a book on the highest shelf.
She glanced around, then wheeled over a ladder from the corner. The sound of rolling wheels grew closer. I pressed against the alcove wall, not daring to breathe.
