The Sin Of Love

Prologue Hi. My name is Jane Zimina. I’m nineteen years old, a second-year college student at Nexus University, and I live in Moscow with my parents. I’m an only child—something my mother says makes me “too emotional” and my father says makes me “too soft.” My father’s name is Pavel Zimina, a strict man with a quiet heart. My mother is Olga Zimina, warm, loving, and always worried. I thought my life was simple. School. Love. Dreams. I thought love—my love—was forever. I was wrong. Chapter 1 Jane’s POV “Please… don’t leave me.” My voice was shaking, my hands trembling as I looked at Nikolai—the boy I had loved since tenth grade. Tears blurred my vision, but I could still see his cold expression. The same eyes that once looked at me with love now looked at me with nothing. “I don’t love you anymore, Jane,” he said flatly. “Stop forcing me to stay. Our love is over.” Each word felt like a knife cutting deeper into my chest. Four years. Four years of memories, promises, and dreams—gone just like that. “Nikolai—please,” I begged, stepping closer. But he turned around. And he left. He didn’t look back. Not even once. I chased after him, calling his name, but he didn’t care anymore. My legs gave up, and I collapsed in the middle of the road. Cars sped past me, horns blaring loudly, but I couldn’t move. I didn’t care. "Our love is over". His words echoed endlessly in my mind. Why? Was I not enough? Did I mean nothing to him? Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I felt broken—like a toy he had played with and thrown away when he got bored. At that moment, dying didn’t seem so scary. Then… footsteps. A shadow appeared in front of me, and a hand was suddenly offered. “Please get up, miss,” a calm, deep voice said. “It’s dangerous here.” I slowly lifted my head. Standing before me was a man—tall, well-built, and unbelievably handsome. His eyes were gentle, his expression worried, and he wore a small, reassuring smile. For some reason, I took his hand. He helped me stand and gently guided me to his car. He handed me a clean handkerchief, and I wiped my tears as he parked on the side of the road. “Why were you crying in the middle of the street?” he asked softly. I tried to speak—but instead, I cried again. “My boyfriend… broke up with me,” I whispered. “He said he doesn’t love me anymore.” Without hesitation, the man pulled me into a warm embrace. “A man who leaves a girl in a dangerous place isn’t a gentleman,” he said. “And crying over someone like that isn’t worth your life.” Those words… somehow eased the pain in my chest. I stopped crying. “Would you like to grab some coffee?” he asked gently. I nodded.