Chapter 14
796 Words
Angelica POV
Greece feels different when you come back broken.
The air is the same—warm, salted by the sea. The streets sound the same. The house I grew up in still smells like lemon trees and old stone.
But I am not the same woman who left.
Nicko doesn’t ask questions when I arrive. He just opens the door and pulls me into his arms, holding me the way he used to when we were kids and the world scared me more than I was willing to admit.
“You’re safe,” he says quietly.
That word again.
Safe.
I nod against his shoulder, but it feels fragile now—like something that can shatter if I hold it too tightly.
The first days pass in a blur.
I sleep. I don’t sleep. I sit on the balcony for hours, staring at the sea without really seeing it. Elena barely leaves my side, and my mother pretends not to watch me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.
No one pressures me.
That somehow hurts more.
At night, when the house is quiet, my mind turns against me.
I replay the image over and over—Alexander in his office. Anna’s hand on his arm. The way she stood like she belonged there.
Like I never truly did.
I know what he would say if I gave him the chance. I know he would explain. He always does.
But explanations don’t erase what I felt in that moment.
Second.
Replaceable.
Temporary.
Max’s voice creeps back into my head when I least expect it.
He replaces. He doesn’t move on.
I hate that part of me listened.
I hate that part of me still wonders.
Nicko finally breaks the silence on the fourth night.
“He’s looking for you everywhere,” he says gently as we sit in the kitchen, late. “He hasn’t slept.”
I don’t respond.
“He didn’t know you were there,” Nicko continues. “And he pushed her away. I swear that on everything.”
“I know,” I say softly.
He frowns. “You know… and you still left?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I stare at my hands.
“Because knowing doesn’t change how it felt,” I whisper. “I didn’t want to stand there and wait for him to choose me.”
Nicko exhales slowly.
“He already did.”
“Did he?” I ask, finally looking at him. “Or did he choose the version of me that made him feel safe?”
Nicko doesn’t answer right away.
“That man would burn cities for you,” he says carefully. “But love isn’t just fire, Angie. I know that. You know that.”
I nod.
“That’s what scares me.”
I miss Alexander in ways that feel physical.
I miss the weight of his arm around me at night. The way he watched me dance like it was something sacred. The way he listened—really listened—when I spoke.
And that’s the worst part.
Because if he were cruel, leaving would be easy.
But he wasn’t.
He was trying.
And I ran anyway.
Some nights, I imagine him standing in our bedroom in Moscow, staring at the empty space where I used to sleep. The thought twists something painful and sharp in my chest.
Other nights, I imagine Anna coming back again. Standing closer. Saying the right words. Touching the parts of him I can’t reach.
That thought is unbearable.
I don’t know if I left because I don’t trust him—
Or because I don’t trust myself to survive losing him.
On the seventh day, Nicko tells me something that changes everything.
“He didn’t come after you,” he says.
I freeze. “What?”
“He could have,” Nicko explains. “He had the planes ready. Men on standby. But he didn’t.”
My chest tightens.
“He’s waiting,” Nicko continues. “Because he knows if he forces you back… he loses you forever.”
That doesn’t sound like the man Max described.
That sounds like the man who let me choose.
I walk out to the balcony alone that night.
The moon reflects off the sea, steady and endless.
I press my hand to my chest, feeling the ache there.
I don’t know what comes next.
I don’t know if love is enough to survive fear, pride, and ghosts from the past.
But I do know this:
Alexander Petrov didn’t chase me.
And somehow, that makes me miss him more than anything else.
Because for the first time since I’ve known him—
He chose me quietly.
And now I have to decide whether I’m brave enough to choose him back.
- Writer
