It was very early in the morning. The sky outside was beginning to turn pale. The long night had ended at last, and the storm had gone. The rain had finally stopped falling, but the world still wore its traces. The ground outside was wet, the air smelled damp, and the trees were heavy with water. Droplets clung to the glass of the windows, slowly sliding down in silence.
Inside Ivan's room, everything was still. The only sound was the faint breathing of two people lying together on the bed.
Ivan and Lydia were asleep in each other's arms. His body curved around hers, holding her as if he still feared she would slip away. Her head rested on his chest, her hair spread against him, while his hand still lay gently in her hair. The night had left its mark on him too. His shirt was wrinkled, stained with the dried traces of her tears. His face, though calm now in sleep, carried the heaviness of sorrow.
