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I’m sorry, mama.

The tears blur my vision, but I twist the throttle anyway.

Five years old. Standing at a funeral, I wish I’d known it was hers. What would I have done?

Fought Vasily? Like I fought him tonight? WHAT THE HELL COULD HAVE I DONE?

I watched them lower a coffin I didn’t know held my mother. I had stood there, small hands clenched at my sides, not understanding why everyone looked…wrong.

Why the air felt so heavy.

While they buried my mother. I. Had. No. Fucking. Idea. Fuck.

I shouldn’t be crying like a fucking child, I’m so fucking weak.

Weak. Weak. Weak. Fucking weak.

Wiping my tears with my left hand, I almost whimper and force myself to nod, like I can beat it into my own head.

No.

I’ll live. I’ll fucking live for the both of us.

I’ll make mama proud. I’ll become something untouchable. Something powerful. Something he will never be able to break again. I will never become another Vasily.

Hours pass before I even notice the city lights around me, turning my head around briefly as I ride onto the bridge stretching ahead.

Halfway across, I notice a small figure standing at the railing. I roll past her first, barely noticing as if just another shadow against the lights until instincts prickle at the back of my neck.

My hand eases off the throttle and the bike comes to a slow stop, boots hitting the asphalt as the engine growls beneath me.

She’s leaning forward slightly, both hands resting on the railing as she stares down into the water below. The wind pulls at her long golden hair, pushing it across her face.

Another gust comes, stronger this time and she sways closer to the edge.

My jaw tightens.

None of this is my problem. I should keep riding but it’s too late since I’m already walking in her direction.

“Planning on staying there all night?” I call out, my accent slips in a rough voice. “Or is this the part where you jump.”

Her body jerks, as if finally noticing my presence. She’s shaking her head even before turning around, and when she does, my heart stops breathing.

Fuck. She’s so beautiful.

Devastatingly so.

My gaze settles on her, the red scarf around her neck, her widened eyes, veiled by a thick sweep of golden lashes that mirror the colour of her hair.

They’re deep, striking green eyes that would undoubtedly catch the light, softening under the sun.

“I wasn’t going to.” Liar.

Her voice crashes into me like a wave and my gaze lingers on her full swollen lips, her lower lip glistening under the dim light.

Is she even real?

To prove a point, I take a step in her direction, slow and deliberate and her scent hits my senses, faint at first, almost lost beneath the cold air.