Einar paced the length of his guest bedroom, his footsteps a steady rhythm on the polished wooden floor. The stylish room which, as he was informed, had been once occupied by Amelie herself, now felt more like a cage with every passing minute. Somehow, he could feel her presence still lingering inside its walls.
He had been cooped up in here since he arrived, unable to bring himself to leave, to face the reality of where he was and, more importantly, who he was staying with.
He felt like an utter fool.
He had agreed to Liam's invitation out of a sense of duty—an effort to repair their relations, for Amelie's sake of course—but now, standing here alone, Einar felt like an idiot. Meeting Amelie again, seeing her so radiant and content in her new life, had shattered his heart into a million pieces. Every reserved smile she had given him, every word she had spoken with such careful politeness, felt like salt in a wound that had never fully healed.