DEVON
I didn't expect the first day of our honeymoon to turn around like this where Elena was silent, speaking to me whenever she felt the need, pointing at different sights as if she was my tour guide. But she didn't smile. Not even once after the bomb she dropped on my head.
Perhaps bringing her here was a terrible idea, and I just failed to see that before because clearly, I underestimated my smart wife.
How could she remember a scene I had painted a long ago? And how the hell she saw it when it was not even placed on the wall of the studio? If I remembered correctly, then that particular painting was tucked away safely with many others, and I didn't remember Elena stepping into my studio after the day she found out her painting there.
Then how did she know about this other painting?
It was past seven when we returned back to our sea-facing resort. The place looked prettier than what they showed in the pictures on the resort's website.
