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Edvard Munch 1893 ____
1 month before
THE paintings of the Louvre stared back at her in mockery. There she was, as a fool, trying to fill her mind with art in order to make her feel better or maybe less conflicted with the hell inside of it.
He standed by her side, the same imponent presence she managed to always avoid between those 7 months. No matter what country they were, in this case, France, she didn't wish to speak to him, and she wouldn't let the marvel of the foreign places they visited let her opinions change.
"Mona Lisa." He muttered. "You always said she was overrated."
"She's even smaller than I imagined." They both smiled.
Alice glanced at the man by her side, the same Hannibal she once adored, that managed to take her breath away at every single moment. Sometimes, if she just closed her eyes, she could forget everything and just remember the lovely person she met at first.
But then everything would come back again.
"You can't buy me with travels to the Louvre, Hannibal." She complained turning to the paintings again. "That won't change what I think about you."
"I know you've set a goal in your mind." He nodded as they observed the details in the painting, the tourists behind them became impatient to take pictures. "And if that is what you truly want, go ahead. Take this only as a small trip of ours." He responded charmingly. "It was part of our honeymoon plans to come to Paris, remember?"
How could she forget it? The promises, the plans they shared. Alice expected a romantic overture with him, to be high on his love and attention, center her whole world only on him and the city of lights surrounding them, but all of that was gone now.
"I just want to go home." She replied.
Hannibal looked down ss they walked towards another painting. He couldn't do that. Whenever she asked that it just broke his heart. She wanted her to stay, to wish to stay, and yet all she could do was see him as a monster.
He gave her time, he gave her space, and she still only saw him as a cold blooded beast who hurt her.
"Do you know what was the first time I saw you?" He suddenly spoke as they walked through the elegant hallways of the museum.
"At your office." She rolled her eyes finding it obvious. "Why are you telling me that?"
"I saw you at the local Baltimore Museum." He confessed. Alice stopped on her feet. He didn't turn around. "You were wearing this short black dress and mumbling sorry to a rude woman." He could rewatch it as a movie in his mind. "We sat with our backs turned to each other and you guessed the painting I was staring at."
