Gideon brought Summer to his penthouse.
The moment the door opened, Summer forgot how to breathe. Nothing had changed. The ivory sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, the crystal chandelier, the large dining table – everything was the same. Even the coffee table had not been changed.
She brushed her fingers on the scratch she had accidentally made that night when she argued with him and then laughed about it minutes later. Then her gaze moved to the wedding photo hanging on the wall.
Her heart clenched.
She remembered that day so vividly – the way Gideon had looked at her as if she were the only woman in the world, the way she had smiled, believing nothing could pull them apart. But they had eventually divorced.
Now six years had passed – six years of silence, of pain. Yet, this place stood unchanged as if time had been frozen the moment she left.
A strange ache rose in her chest.
'Has he really kept everything like this?'
