Lucia picked up her pitifully small pack, staring at it with a lump lodging in her throat. A few trinkets and a blanket one of the cooks had sewn for her. That was all her time in here had produced.
There was nothing she owned that had Lestor's love behind it, no object that would remind her in the future of what she had lost.
Not a single thing...
She sniffed, then swallow hard as she slung the pack over her shoulder. Thinking that this is perhaps what was best. There could not have been much in the way of love, if it had died so swiftly, with no struggle whatsoever on Lestor's part.
However, her feelings were true. It lived in her heart, and she felt a ragged despair that she alone would carry this pain. Only time and distance could possibly begin to heal this sense of betrayal and t
