The summer air had been thick with the scent of jasmine and approaching storms. They had been sitting on the edge of the training grounds, their legs dangling over the stone wall.
Diana had said something small, something about wanting to see the world beyond these walls, and he had laughed, dismissive and cruel in his youthful certainty. He had told her that her place was here, at his side, building their legacy.
He hadn't seen the way her smile had faltered. He hadn't seen the way her shoulders had slumped, the first hairline fracture in the foundation of what they might have been.
"I didn't know," he whispered into the empty room, his voice cracking. "I swear to God, Diana, I didn't know."
But knowing now didn't change the past. The past was a tomb.
