Chapter 189

• The week had been full of noise, the kind that did not come from hammers or sewing machines but from conversations, emails, and headlines that seemed to follow me into every quiet corner. By the time Sunday arrived, I wanted nothing more than a day without demands.
• Julian suggested the river. It was late morning when we left the apartment, the air just warm enough to walk without a coat. The city was slower on Sundays, as if even the traffic had decided to take a softer route. We stopped at a bakery along the way for coffee and small pastries wrapped in brown paper. The warm scent of butter and sugar drifted up as we walked, mingling with the faint sharpness of roasted coffee.
• The riverbank was only a fifteen-minute walk, but by the time we reached it, the pace of the city felt far away. The water moved in an unhurried rhythm, catching the light in shifting patterns. Boats passed now and then—some small and private, others carrying families or tourists who leaned over the sides to take pictures.