ASYA’S POV
Clutching the coat tightly around me, I stare at the front door.
I’ve been looking at it for at least an hour. First from the middle of the living room for ten straight minutes, then I managed two shaky steps toward it and continued staring. It took me an entire hour of this stare-step-stare cycle to finally reach it. Now, as I wrap my hand around the handle, my fingers tremble so badly I can barely hold on.
Biting down on my lower lip, I pull the door open and step outside the apartment.
Pasha’s place is on the third floor, but most of the residents use the elevator, so the stairwell is empty. One tiny shuffle at a time, I make my way down the stairs. Considering how violently my legs are shaking, it feels like a massive accomplishment.
Pasha left for a meeting with his pa
