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So, I chose not to. That night I decided to stay for the mysterious boy with pretty smile and brown eyes, who cried in front of a stranger.

“I just found out my mother died, thirteen years ago. And I was at her funeral not knowing it was hers. My father killed her because she was trying to leave him but couldn’t go far away. She told me she’d come back. I was waiting for her on the fucking stairs...”

The thought wrenches a sob from deep in my chest. Tears cascade in heavy waves as I lie in the hospital bed. My hand rises again, but a broad palm catches it before I can move further.

Thick fingers brush away the tiny droplets, smudging them gently. Already familiar with his touch, my rigid frame softens into the mattress as I find Sergei staring down at me.

His expression is indecipherable, like a blank canvas, betraying nothing of what he must be feeling. And yet, all I can see are the tears I once watched stream endlessly down his cheeks as he spoke about his mother.

When I woke up, I found myself in a hospital funded by Austin. I had no recollection of the previous night, no memory at all of the moment I first met Sergei.

Amara said I hit my head hard when I tipped over the bridge. She found me on the shore—barely conscious—and carried me to the hospital herself.

The doctors said my memories might return with time but their voice lacked the certainty.

She told me I was lucky. That the wound on my forehead won’t scar.

I don’t feel lucky.

“Why do you always kiss this spot on my forehead?”

“I—m…sorr—hy.” The words are broken when they leave my mouth but the way his brow scrunches up with confusion tells me he heard me.

“Baby.” His soothing voice sends another wave of guilt crashing through me, my body trembling as the dam finally breaks.

Tears spill freely as I sob, and he moves instantly, pulling me into his arms, shielding me, hiding me away.

His mother left him. And I tried to do the same.

“I…I’m—”

“Shh.” He rocks me back and forth, slow and steady. My hands rest limply against his shoulders as his larger frame encloses me completely, shutting the rest of the world out, letting me fall apart, letting me grieve.

“I’m here.” His voice thick with emotions, yet holding his rage back, his shoulders rigid and tense beneath my touch.

“No, let me say this.” I manage to croak the words out; he has to know just as much as I need to let it all out if I ever hope to have a future with him.

“I know, baby.” His lips graze my neck as he speaks.

I’m shaking my head before I push him away, his head lifts, there’s so much pain in his brown irises it aches, it cracks every coherent thought inside me.

“I was raped ninety-eight times.” His jaw tightens as he nods, his fingers clutching the sheets, his knuckles turning white yet he doesn’t look away, holding my gaze as if anchoring me.

“Amara led me to that man—Austin Blake.” Another sob breaks through as the betrayal claws its way back up my throat.

“He hurt me whenever I fought back until I couldn’t anymore. I tried to tell everyone but no one listened to me. T- the doctors were under his payroll and all the rape tests were negative—”

“Elara.”

“My sister’s friend, he…t-took me to an abandoned building—” I notice the colour from Sergei’s face fading.

He didn’t know this.

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry.” Arms cage me in; I’m surrounded again by the familiar warmth as snot and tears soak his white t-shirt. “I didn’t want to live Sergei.”

He freezes.

“Elara, baby. D-do you—”