When Ena entered the studio, two cups stood on the table, while a third had been washed and turned upside down. Dunja explained that Filip usually dropped by on Thursdays. Ena had come on Wednesday. They were due to marry in six weeks, and she wanted to meet the woman whose opinion her fiancé quoted whenever they chose a film or a holiday destination.
Dunja was a restorer. She was forty, had careful hands, and a habit of hearing an entire question before answering. She said she and Filip had never been a couple. They had never even kissed. Ena felt relief, followed by an unease she could not name. On a shelf, she recognized a book Filip had recently recommended. On the first page was a dedication to Dunja, written nine years earlier.
Their routines emerged through conversation. Filip called late when he could not sleep, brought his worries, and left them on her table. When Dunja needed someone to accompany her to a family celebration, he was busy. When she mentioned another man, he withdrew for several weeks, then returned with flowers and an explanation that he missed their special closeness.
"Did he ask you to wait?" Ena asked. Dunja shook her head. He had never said it. He always left enough warmth for her to invent a reason to wait. As she spoke, she heard for the first time how that arrangement sounded to someone who had not lived it for years. She set down her cup and began removing Filip's manuscripts from her worktable.
That evening, Ena told him about the conversation. He considered the absence of an affair a complete defense. He even expected her to thank him for his honesty. She asked whether he knew what Dunja wanted from life. He replied that she liked art and peace. He knew nothing of the job offer in another city, the one she had declined after he told her he did not know how he could get through a difficult period without her.
They postponed the wedding. Ena did not need to prove infidelity to acknowledge her own doubts. Dunja packed the manuscripts and sent them by courier, then accepted a short engagement at a restoration workshop on the coast. On Thursday, Filip found the studio locked. On his phone were two messages with clear answers, without hints or spaces between the lines. He read them for a long time, searching for the familiar place where someone else would explain what he should feel.