Here is the English version, refined for a deep, sensory experience:
Olivia wept until there was nothing left inside her but a hollow, aching silence.
At some point during the depths of the night, sheer exhaustion dragged her into a fitful, uneasy sleep against Isabella's shoulder. But even sleep offered no sanctuary. Every time her eyelids closed, she saw him—witnessing his departure through the palace gates again and again. He would turn back one final time, wearing that infuriatingly gentle smile that promised a future he could no longer give.
"I'll return."
The words clung to her spirit like a curse, a debt that would never be repaid.
When morning arrived, Olivia did not rise.
The servants moved in and out of the room in a state of fearful, hushed silence. Trays of untouched food began to pile up near the fireplace, cold and neglected. The curtains remained pulled tight, suffocating the chamber in a darkness thick enough to swallow time itself.
