Their idyllic romance was not without its challenges. Antoine, it turned out, carried a hidden sorrow. He had been married before, a love story cut tragically short by his wife's sudden illness. The memory of her, the love they shared, still haunted him.
Amelia, understanding the depth of his pain, was patient and supportive. She knew she couldn't erase his past, but she could help him heal. She wanted to be the one to share his future.
One evening, while they were having dinner at Antoine's home, he received a phone call. He listened for a moment, his face clouding with concern. He hung up and turned to Amelia, his expression troubled.
"That was my sister," he said. "My ex-wife's family… they're selling the house. The house we shared. They want me to come, to take some things."
Amelia knew this was a difficult moment for him. She offered to go with him, to be by his side.
The next day, they drove to the house, a beautiful old stone building nestled in the hills. As they approached, Antoine's face was a mixture of emotions - sadness, nostalgia, and a flicker of something else, a shadow of pain.
The house was filled with memories, with the echoes of laughter and love. Antoine walked through the rooms, his hand brushing against the familiar walls. He looked at the furniture, the photographs, the objects that once held such meaning. He seemed lost in a world of his own, reliving the past.
Amelia stayed by his side, offering silent support. She watched as he carefully selected a few items - a photograph, a favourite book, a painting they had bought together.
As they were leaving, they bumped into Antoine's former sister-in-law, a woman named Isabelle. Her face was etched with disapproval.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Isabelle said to Amelia, her voice cold. "You're nothing like my sister."
Amelia felt a pang of unease. She knew that Isabelle was still grieving the loss of her sister, and she understood that the woman might be wary of any new relationship Antoine had.
"Isabelle, please," Antoine said, his voice firm. "Amelia is… special to me."
Isabelle's gaze softened slightly, but she didn't offer any warmth. "Be that as it may, Antoine. Just don't forget her. Don't forget what you had."
The encounter left a lingering shadow over their relationship. Amelia felt the weight of Antoine's past, the ghost of his former love. She knew she had to be patient, to allow him to heal at his own pace.