Chapter 57

Chapter

Fifty-Seven

"You think I got over you? I just got older."

― Karl Kristian Flores

Caia

As I sat there editing the last picture of the day, a smile tugged at my lips. The heartwarming scene before me was impossible to resist.

Two weeks had passed since I'd captured the moment when a 75-year-old Asian man dropped to one knee, proposing to his 72-year-old Mexican sweetheart. Her eyes had widened in shock, while he beamed with the most endearing grin, clutching a dazzling 2-carat diamond ring.

The backdrop? A chic Italian restaurant, candles flickering softly, creating an ambiance straight out of a romance movie. Everything had been simply perfect .

Memories of that day flooded back, especially something Tao Chen, my client, said when he hired me for the surprise.

"You know," he'd chuckled, "they say love is like searching for your glasses when you're already wearing them. Sometimes, you spend years looking, and then one day, you realize it's been right in front of you all along, even when you thought you were too old, too broken, or too late to find it."

His words filled me with warmth, but that feeling was quickly overshadowed by an unease creeping into my thoughts. My conversation with Alexsei kept playing in my head.

To be honest, I was scared—terrified, really. Terrified of that woman and the danger she might bring to him... or even me.

Despite the heartwarming scene I had captured, the worry weighed heavy on my heart, casting a shadow over the small joy the picture brought. I stretched, feeling the day's fatigue melt away, and glanced around Alexsei's almost-empty living room.

One of his jackets was draped over the couch, a first edition of Romeo and Juliet lay on the coffee table, his sunglasses sat on the kitchen table, and his silver zippo rested next to them. The room felt suspended in time—every object a piece of him.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. It smelled just like him—so familiar, once mine.

Rising from the couch, I padded quietly to his bedroom door and paused. I'd been staying here for four days and had never dared to explore his room. I told myself I was respecting his privacy, but deep down, I knew it was fear.

What was I afraid of? It's not like I'd find corpses in there …right?

I let out a nervous chuckle, trying to shake off the rising guilt. Slowly, I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The room looked just as I imagined—spacious, meticulous, and organized.

Alexsei had left to check on Scarlett Harper, stepping in as her manager to save time, and I knew he wouldn't be back for a while. It gave me the freedom to finally look around.

The bed was neatly made, the dark, luxurious sheets perfectly smooth. A framed photo on the nightstand caught my eye—it was of us, smiling and carefree, from happier times. His wardrobe doors were slightly ajar, revealing his impeccably arranged clothes.

Everything was so... him , it almost hurt.

I wandered further in, noticing the little things that made this room uniquely Alexsei's: the faint scent of his cologne, the stack of well-worn books by the window, full of his notes. Magazines about cars were scattered on the bedside shelf, next to a neatly folded New York Times .

Then I saw them—photos on the walls that made my heart ache. Pictures of me, of the two of us together, and of Lukyan. Some of all three of us, frozen moments from our life together. Taking a deep breath, I let it all sink in, my heart throbbing with pain.

A part of me would always carry the weight of regret for leaving Alexsei. But another part would forever hold on to the solace of knowing I tried to protect him.

I sat down on the right side of the bed and glanced out the window at the breathtaking view of Central Park. Another framed picture on the bedside shelf caught my attention, making me smile. It was us, from one of our date nights months after Lukyan was born. I remembered that night vividly. Alexsei had surprised me by booking a rooftop restaurant. We arrived just in time to catch the last rays of sunlight fading over the city. We sat under the stars, indulging in lobster and pasta .

We had taken the photo with his phone, capturing the moment perfectly. I was in his arms, smiling wide, while he leaned down to kiss the top of my head.

As I held the picture, memories flooded back—laughter, whispered promises, stolen kisses, and sweaty love-making.

With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly set the picture down, ready to leave the room. But as I moved to stand, a simple matte black box tucked under the bedside shelf caught my eye. Intrigued, I knelt down, brushing off the dust from the top, and slowly lifted the lid.

What I found inside shattered my heart.

It was a collection of Lukyan's belongings—his cherished wolf teddy, a gift from Volk when he was born, his blue pacifier, and his favorite book, The Story of the Moon and the Orphan Child . Dozens of pictures of him filled the box, ones I had taken, capturing his little smile. But there were also some of me.

My wedding ring was nestled in its original velvety Tiffany box, alongside my favorite little mirror he got me years ago in Saint Petersburg from that antique shop that looked like it was plucked straight out of Paris.

And next to it— no way .

He kept it?

Tucked in the corner of the box was the infamous poker coin I handed him ages ago at his casino after I made that snarky comment about him being Igor's pet.

Butterflies fluttered in my chest, but it felt more like a punch. I can't believe he kept it…Oh, Alexsei.

Then my brows creased slightly as my eyes landed on dozens of letters tied together with a red ribbon. I seized the letters, sifting through them one by one, each bearing a date. My stomach sank to my toes as I reached for the oldest one, dated the day after I left him and ran awa y

With trembling hands, I unfolded it carefully.

Hi moya solnyshka,

I don't even know where to fucking start. It feels like the world is crumbling around me, and I'm just standing in the wreckage, alone and shattered. The day you left me was the day the sun went out, and every breath since the moment you walked out that door has been a damn struggle to survive.

I can still hear Lukyan's laughter echoing through these empty rooms, your cries haunting me in the days after his funeral. Your name and his have been leaving my lips in a silent scream ever since. You were my light, baby, and he was my salvation. And now everything is silent, dark, and fucking cold.

How could you leave me, Caia? How could you fucking abandon me? I keep asking myself this, but deep down, I'd abandon me too if I could. One of the biggest tragedies of my life is that no matter where I go, here I fucking am.

How am I supposed to go on without you?

How am I supposed to fucking breathe when each breath feels like it's ripping me apart?

I love you more than life itself, Caia. More than words can fucking explain. I would have done anything for you, given everything I had just to see you smile. But now that smile is just a distant memory, a cruel fucking joke mocking me in the silence of the night.

I don't know if you'll ever read this letter, or if you'll ever grasp the pain you've caused me on top of losing Lukyan. But I needed to get this out, to pour out the agony that consumes me, to scream into the fucking void and hope that somewhere, somehow, you'll hear me.

I miss you, baby. God, how I fucking miss you. I'm clinging to the hope that one day, soon, our souls will find each other again, even as I feel my sanity slipping away.

If I fall, Caia, it's only because I'm searching for you, ready to lose myself in the depths if it means finding you.

I love you. Always.

Yours in agony,

Alexsei

I folded the letter, the weight of his words cutting deeper into my already splintered heart. I slipped it back with the others, the ribbon pressing against my trembling fingers as I placed them back into the box. Taking a shaky breath, I shut the lid and gently set it aside.

Without a sound, I stood and left the room, closing the door softly behind me.

I made my way to the guest room and stumbled into the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes with numb, mechanical movements, I turned the shower on and sank to the cool tiles of the floor, the water pouring down on me from above.

I sat there for what felt like hours.

Gosh, what have you done, Caia?

"I came as soon as I could," he said, sounding breathless, like he'd just sprinted a marathon. "And guess what? I brought your favorite! A smoked salmon cream cheese bagel with...," he paused for dramatic effect, rummaging through the bag, "Barbecue Lay's chips!"

My eyes widened in excitement. "From Bagels & Jo? "

He nodded with a smirk. "Yep, I knew this would cheer you up."

I hugged him tight, feeling a rush of gratitude and joy. "Steven, you're an absolute godsend."

After my mental breakdown in the shower, I cleaned up, put on some pajamas, and tried to sleep the pain away. But then Steven called, asking if he could drop off my recent check from the Gregs. Hearing my voice, he could tell I wasn't doing great, so he just said, "I'm coming over. End of story."

And here he was, breathless, with that sweet smile on his face and one of my favorite foods in hand.

He laughed and took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs. "Anything for you, pretty girl! Now, let's dig in and make this day a little brighter."

I grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard, set them on the table, and carefully placed the bagels on top. Then I went to the fridge, grabbed some sodas, and set them beside the plates.

"There we go," I said with a small smile.

Steven grinned, taking a huge bite of his bagel. "This is exactly what we needed," he said with his mouth full. "Food is the best medicine."

After nearly two years of living and working with Steven, I still hadn't found the courage to tell him the real reason I moved to NYC. He and Nikita think I just needed a fresh start from Russia, but the truth is buried much deeper. Steven knows about my "divorce," but that's where the story ends.

Valeria had only shared with her cousin that I'd left Alexsei, couldn't bear to stay in Russia, and needed a swift visa to the States. In our weekly four-hour calls, she always urged me to open up to Steven and Nikita.

"You can trust them, Caia," she'd say, her voice thick with empathy. "It's important to talk about Lukyan, to let his memory breathe. If you keep suffocating it in your heart, one day it'll demand release, and you won't be able to handle the pain."

Deep down, I knew she was right. But I couldn't do it. Fear held me back—fear that Steven's view of me would change, that he'd pity me or, worse, judge me for abandoning my life and fleeing to New York.

But after finding that box in Alexsei's room, filled with those letters, something in me shifted. His words showed how much strength it took for him to let me go. If he could do that, maybe I could face my own fears and share my truth.

"So, this is your little dungeon," Steven said, bits of bagel stuck to the corner of his lips. "Fancy setup. Man, I'd kill for an ex like yours. You're living it up in this million-dollar apartment while I'm stuck in a shoebox. Can we swap exes?"

I took a bite of my bagel, savoring the smoked salmon and chive cream cheese. "Yeah, Alexsei is… something else," I said, a sad smile playing on my lips.

Steven furrowed his brows as we ate, chatting about his upcoming photography gigs and the latest spat with Nikita over their new house in Boston. They'd just bought it a month ago and were renovating, but Nikita hated the royal green Steven picked for the living room.

"I don't even know why I bother asking for his opinion," Steven sighed. "His taste is awful—except for relationships, of course," he added with a wink.

I chuckled. "Well, at least he's got his priorities straight where it counts."

After we cleared the table, I motioned for Steven to follow me into the living room, carrying our drinks to the coffee table. We sank into the couch, drinks in hand.

"So…" Steven started, his hand landing on my arm, a playful glint in his eye. "I don't want to sound like a fashion cr itic or anything, but you're rocking the whole ‘hot mess' look today. You sure you're okay?"

I laughed softly at his comment, but suddenly, tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. Steven's face shifted from playful to concerned.

He gently squeezed my hand. "Hey, it's okay."

I wiped my tears away, feeling embarrassed. "Sorry," I muttered, taking a deep breath.

"Caia, what's going on? You can talk to me, sweetie."

"I haven't been completely honest with you, Steven," I whispered, barely able to look at him.

Before Steven could react, I stood abruptly. "Wait here a second."

I padded into the guest room, nerves tightening with each step. My gaze fell on my bag, tossed carelessly beside the bed like it, too, had given up on life. Kneeling, my fingers brushed the fabric, trembling slightly.

I hauled it onto the bed, unzipping it like I was diffusing a bomb. My hand plunged into the mess, fingers scrambling.

Finally, I grabbed my wallet. I fumbled it open, searching until I found the picture. Seeing it again knocked the air out of me. I took a second, bracing myself, before heading back to the living room, the picture tight in my hand.

Steven was still on the couch, his eyes glued to me.

"There," I whispered, holding out the picture.

Steven took it gently, the air between us thick with silence as he studied it. His brow furrowed as the image sank in—a beautiful spring day, Alexsei, Lukyan, and I looking like a picture-perfect family from some fairytale.

A really twisted fairytale.

"You have... a son?" Steven asked.

" Had a son," I corrected, my voice quieter than I intended .

He put the picture down on the coffee table and grabbed my hands, pulling me down to sit beside him. " Had ?"

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah. Had ."

And just like that, every secret I ever had poured out of me.

I told him about my childhood, how my father had turned me into a pawn for his own sick purposes. How Alexsei had been the light in all that darkness, how I fell in love with him against all odds. And then there was Lukyan—our son, the one good, innocent thing we had. But it all fell apart. Lukyan was taken from us, ripped away like he was never meant to be ours. I left Alexsei when the pain became too much and abandoned him when he needed me the most.

And now, the woman who killed Lukyan was coming for us again.

Steven didn't say a word, just squeezed my hand when I needed a moment to breathe or stop the tears. And when I finished, it felt like I'd been emptied out, no more secrets left to hide behind.

He let out a long breath, shaking his head slowly. "Caia... I had no idea."

"I didn't tell you because... I don't know. I didn't want you to look at me differently. Or judge me." I sighed. "I know that's stupid, but with New York, you, and Nikita, I just thought maybe if I started over?—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up." Steven's eyes widened, like I'd just said something completely insane. "You think I'd judge you? Are you kidding me right now? You're like Wonder Woman without the outfit. If anything, I'm bragging about knowing a real-life superhero."

"Wonder Woman?" I choked out a laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "You've been through hell, and you're still here. You're strong as hell. Cut yourself some slack, Caia. You were doing what you had to do to survive. That's not something you should ever apologize for."

Without a word, I stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Thank you," I whispered into his shoulder, my voice steady now. No more falling apart, just this strange sense of relief.

"Alright," he said, his grin turning mischievous as he let me go. "Enough with the crying. Now, let's focus on something important." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "So... how are we gonna stop this crazy bitch?"