Katya stood with her arms folded, her back towards him, looking particularly lonely as her rather frail figure was illuminated by the natural light of the windowsill.
When Komer stepped into the room, he hesitated, overwhelmed by an indescribable mood that made him want to approach yet stop, a feeling that was neither guilt nor embarrassment, but a faint sense of desolation and solitude.
Thinking back to when he first became acquainted with Katya, from being complete strangers to exchanging pleasantries, from cooperating to becoming inseparable, from deep affection to parting ways, and ultimately becoming sworn enemies.
Was this a trick of fate, a destiny preordained?