Page 140

ME: Give me three weeks. Please, I'll be there before my birthday.

I won’t go back.

I won’t go back to him.

I’ll live like I’m desperate for love.

I’ll crave it, chase it, hold onto it with both hands till my fingers ache and my chest feels full again, until the clock runs out.

And then I’ll leave. I’ll be selfish and choose myself.

THIRTY-ONE

Sergei

Ispent hours looking for her in the campus and then some more outside it.

I went to her place and found nothing, only calming down when I received a notification on my phone of someone trespassing in my property.

The sight of her standing at my door calmed me when only a few days ago I had to push her away.

One week without her has been worse than the three years I spent searching, because now I know what her touch feels like, what her laughter sounds like when it slips out unguarded, what her eyes look like when they gleam with mischief.

An hour later, I’m stepping into my penthouse to find her sprawled across my couch. Her favourite show hums softly in the background, reduced to white noise, while her chest rises and falls in slow, steady breaths.

One of my T-shirts is clutched in her hands, the fabric bunched close as she burrows into it, wishing she is dreaming about me, hopefully.

Because she’s all I’ve had this past week. The only thing that kept me grounded, held me together when every instinct in me screamed to break free of restraint and go back to her.

I couldn’t see her. Not when I was in the worst state I’d ever been in.

Elara had seen my scars, and she was still hiding.

Elara hated my scars.

The thought kept spiralling and spiralling until I found myself standing outside my shrink’s office, barely holding myself together.

I begged him to numb me. Because the rejection I’d seen in her eyes when she’d pulled the sheets over herself, hiding her body from me was louder, almost violent, choking me with the very hope that kept me alive all these years.

I’ve never found a healthy outlet for my rage. I just kept running, trying to outrun my nightmares while chasing my only dream—Elara.

Roman brought me back home when I was barely coherent, half-dead from all the pills that had taken up space in my veins, when I truly wanted the numb my brain.

But it is quiet now.

I drape my suit jacket over the armchair in the corner as I stalk towards her, taking the place of the fabric she’s clinging to, and slide an arm beneath her, pulling her into me.

She melts instinctively, her head settling against my chest as I press a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a fraction too long before tightening my hold, drawing her closer.

I missed this.

Her eyes flutter open, slowly grasping the reality of the situation and… smiles?

“Hey.” She mumbles; her voice laced with sleep as she rests her chin in the middle of my chest.

“Hey baby.” I coo, my hand comes up instinctively, brushing the stray strands of hair away from her face.

My thumb lingers against her cheek, tracing the faint path where a tear must have fallen earlier.