Chapter 38

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

"Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain."

― William Faulkner

Sofiya

A few months later

I rolled my eyes and took a bite of the California sushi roll, chewing it with a hint of aggression.

"How dare you say that?" I mumbled through a mouthful of food, playfully pointing my chopsticks at him. "The Notebook is hands down the best romance movie ever! "

"I disagree."

I threw my hands up in the air, feigning indignation. "Why?"

How could anyone on earth say that The Notebook is not a beautiful love story?

Seriously, don't we all secretly wish to find our soulmates, the ones who would go to the ends of the earth for us and with whom we can build a life together?

The Notebook perfectly captures that dreamy, heartwarming feeling of true love.

It's like a warm hug for your lonely soul.

You watch it and you can't help but get caught up in the romance, feeling all those mushy feelings deep down, wishing to meet the love of your life.

"Because it's so cliché," he shrugged. "And if a man ever throws himself at you while you're on a Ferris wheel, guilt-tripping you into going on a date with him or else he'll kill himself, I hope you'll be sane enough to refuse."

I chuckled. "Touché."

As I took another bite of sushi, I mulled over his perspective.

I had to admit, there was a nugget of truth in what he said about romantic movies being predictable and over-the-top.

But for me, The Notebook was a guilty pleasure—a movie that allowed me to escape into a world of swoon-worthy romance, even if it was a bit unrealistic.

I leaned back in my chair and grabbed a piece of ginger to cleanse my palate. "You're just an anti-romantic, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," he shrugged.

I took another sushi roll and relished the flavors, my taste buds dancing with delight at the fresh fish and perfectly seasoned rice.

Looking around, I admired the restaurant's attention to detail . It felt like stepping into a cozy corner of Japan with soft lighting from traditional lanterns casting a warm glow and elegant Japanese artwork on the walls.

The wooden furnishings added to the charm, with low seating options like tatami mats and low tables that made the dining experience relaxed and immersive.

The gentle melodies of traditional Japanese music filled the air, creating a perfect backdrop for our regular meet-ups every two weeks.

Even though we came here to catch up, I knew deep down it was his way of keeping tabs on me.

Alexsei has become more than just a friend to me.

He helped me move from San Francisco once I passed my final exams and got my degree in Greek Mythology.

Life among the wealthy can be surreal – he even offered me his apartment to settle down in, just as Volk had promised.

I winced as Volk's name crossed my mind, the sting of memories still fresh.

Despite my best efforts to erase him from my thoughts, he seemed to linger in the corners of my mind, refusing to be forgotten.

It's been three months since I moved to New York City, and it's been exactly what I needed to start anew.

Each day, I find myself falling more in love with the vibrant spirit of the city that never sleeps.

I landed an amazing job as a museum curator at Lazio Exhibits Inc., the biggest exhibition company in New York City, owned by Angelo Lazio, who happens to be a friend of Alexsei.

When Angelo mentioned he needed someone with expertise in ancient Greek artifacts and mythology, Alexsei recommended me, and here I was .

I absolutely adore this job. It's incredibly fulfilling to manage and preserve collections, curate exhibits, and educate others about ancient Greek culture.

It feels like a dream come true to be surrounded by my passion every day.

Just yesterday, we received a breathtaking sculpture called "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss" from the Louvre itself.

My heart nearly burst with excitement when the movers brought it in.

To have such a beautiful piece right before me was simply mind-blowing.

The sculpture vividly captured Psyche and Cupid's love story, freezing a moment of eternal longing and devotion.

It was both heartwarming to imagine such a deep connection and saddening to realize I wasn't part of that fortunate duo.

Every night, as I lay in bed, the distant honking of cars seeping through my apartment windows, my mind wandered to Volk.

I replayed our time together so often, almost trying to exhaust hope, hoping to ease the pain in my heart.

You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

You're safe now.

You have no idea how badly I've been craving you.

I guess this is goodbye, dorogaya.

I could still feel the warmth of his hands on me and hear his tender words in my ear.

The memory of how his eyes sparkled when I said his name, or darkened when my fingers traced his body, remains vivid.

There are nights when I wake covered in sweat, hair clinging to my head, mouth dry. In those disoriented moment s, his name lingers on my lips as my hand searches for him, only to find the cold bedside beside me.

These restless moments have haunted me for three months now.

At first, seeing Alexsei revived a swirl of questions. I wanted to ask about Volk—how he was, where he was, if he ever thought of me.

Did our memories consume his mind?

Was he with someone else?

Each time, my heart cracked a bit more at the thought.

But each time, I restrained myself.

Volk gave me a chance to start anew, to escape the madness that nearly killed me.

I couldn't afford to regress into hopeless dreams that would never come true.

So, I pretend.

I pretend we never met.

I pretend I never touched him.

I pretend I never kissed him.

I pretend I never let him in.

"Fancy some ice cream? I could really use a peanut buttery treat to wash away the taste of all that salty food," I proposed, hoping for a positive response.

Living in New York City had its perks, but the solitude of my bedroom sometimes overwhelmed me, despite Dasha being just next door.

To combat the emptiness, I often roamed the late-night streets until exhaustion forced me home.

"Actually, I have to go. I have a meeting with Angelo before he leaves for London," Alexsei replied, checking his watch with a frown.

"A meeting at 11 p.m.? Do you guys ever sleep?"

He smirked. "Money doesn't sleep, Sofiya ."

I left him at the table, promising to return after a quick bathroom break. Inside, the traditional Japanese design of the restroom caught my eye.

Ugh, I would love to visit Japan one day.

After tending to my needs, I approached the large mirror to freshen up.

Dressed in black leather jeans and a simple blouse, I adjusted my appearance, securing my ponytail and checking my eyeliner.

Cupping my hands under the faucet, I splashed cool water on my face, relishing the refreshing sensation. I then dabbed my cheeks dry with a piece of paper.

Exiting the bathroom, I noticed Alexsei engrossed in a phone call.

As I approached, I accidentally bumped into a petite redhead waitress, nearly causing her to drop her plates of sushi.

Apologizing profusely, I hurried closer to Alexsei, glancing back to ensure the waitress was alright.

" Nyet , she is doing just fine," Alexsei sighed heavily. "I told you to trust me, Volk."

The mention of Volk's name stopped me in my tracks.

My heart raced, breath caught in my throat.

Instinct told me to flee, but curiosity urged me to eavesdrop.

I knew Alexsei and Volk were still in contact.

Obviously.

But hearing his name, almost hearing his voice through the phone, weakened my knees. I couldn't help but wonder who or what they were discussing.

Deep down, I hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe, they were talking about me.

"Angelo is a dick, but he owes me one, so he doesn't have a choice," Alexsei remarked, spooning egg fried rice into his mouth. "Your princess is doing fine. Now, let me eat in peace. I'll call you if something's wrong, or worse, if she starts crushing on someone else."

With a chuckle, he ended the call and returned his phone to his jacket.

Dipping a piece of salmon sushi into soy sauce, he ate leisurely.

Meanwhile, my heart continued to race in my chest, refusing to calm down.

After a few tense seconds, I finally mustered the courage to complete my steps away from him and settled back into my chair with a sigh.

The last thing I wanted was for him to realize I had overheard his conversation.

"I'm absolutely stuffed," I exclaimed, lightly rubbing my stomach. "I swear, I'll never eat that much sushi in one sitting ever again."

"You always say that, yet somehow you end up ordering enough for four people," Alexsei retorted, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, did you hear about this guy in Germany?" I asked, eager to change the subject. "He ate over 200 sushi rolls in a single week and ended up in the hospital, screaming in agony because of severe stomach pain. And guess what? They discovered a meter-long worm in his intestine!"

The news went viral, dubbing the man "the sushi guy," though I couldn't help but think "the dumb guy" might be more fitting, given he was back eating sushi days after surgery.

Alexsei's face twisted in horror, quickly putting down his California roll.

Disgust flashed in his eyes, and his expression was so comical I couldn't help but la ugh.

"You just had to bring that up, didn't you? Now I won't be able to get the image of worms crawling out of my sushi out of my head."

My laughter intensified, and I struggled to stifle the loud sound by covering my mouth with my hand. "Well, as long as you don't attempt to devour 200 of them, I think you'll be safe," I managed to reply. Alexsei shook his head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on his face.

"As much as I've enjoyed our delightful conversation about infected intestines, I really should get you home. Angelo isn't known for his patience."

He motioned for the bill with a simple raise of his hand and gracefully slipped his leather jacket back on.

As we prepared to leave, an impulse took hold of me, and I blurted out, "Why do you keep sticking around with me?"

Instantly, I regretted my words, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.

Sofiya, you really have a knack for saying the wrong things at the wrong times.

"No, I mean…" I corrected myself, nervously playing with my chopsticks and prodding at my now-cold egg fried rice. "Why do you continue to spend time with me? We've been back from Moscow for over three months now. You don't have to babysit me anymore."

Alexsei raised his eyebrow as he absentmindedly ran his hand through his beard.

Soon after, a tall, handsome Asian waiter brought the bill, and he smoothly paid with his black card. The waiter wished us a pleasant evening and left to attend to other customers.

"How much did you hear, Sofiya?"

I let out a sigh, biting my lower lip.

There was no use in trying to hide the truth .

"Not much, just Volk's name," I admitted.

He scoffed lightly, as if expecting as much. "And what do you want to know?"

Swallowing nervously. "Everything."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his eyes continued to scrutinize me. Without a word, he stood up and gestured for me to follow him.

Knowing his unpredictable moods, I quickly wiped my lips clean and obediently trailed him outside.

We walked side by side to his sleek black Range Rover, Alexsei still silent, his long legs forcing me to hurry to keep up. Panting slightly, I was relieved when we reached the car.

He opened the door for me, his expression distant.

Once inside, he revved the engine, zooming through New York City as if on a mission.

The speed made me uneasy; I gripped the seat's edges.

"I know Angelo's time is valuable, but so is my life," I shouted over the wind.

He rolled his eyes, eased off the gas, and focused on the road.

Silence fell, my hands fidgeted nervously, wiping sweat on my thighs.

My mind buzzed with swirling thoughts—questions, doubts, and hopes that suddenly left me feeling weary.

I rested against the window, eyes closed, drained.

After what felt like an hour, Alexsei shook me awake.

"Wake up, we're here," he said, checking his phone.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me everything," I insisted, eyes on him.

He sighed heavily, setting his phone aside, eyes still on the road.

"It's complicated," he admitted, rubbing his temples. "Damn, I need a massage. "

"Alexsei…"

With a resigned sigh, he finally relented. "Alright. Volk asked me to keep an eye on you."

Confusion creased my brow. "Why? He's the one who told me to leave and start a new life away from him."

Alexsei turned to face me, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "We're talking about Volk here. When he becomes fixated on something, he doesn't easily let it go."

I stared back, utterly perplexed. His gaze held mine, and he pursed his lips, as if holding back more.

"He just—" Alexsei's sentence was abruptly cut off by his ringing phone.

Annoyed, he picked it up, gesturing for me to give him a moment.

Frustrated, I shook my head and grabbed my purse, opening the door to step out.

"Angelo, you're a pain in the ass," Alexsei grumbled into the phone.

I slammed the car door shut and turned to face him, flipping him, which only made him laugh.

With that, he drove away, leaving me alone on the dimly lit streets of New York City.

Surrounded by the city's bustling nightlife, I felt completely disconnected.

The idea of returning home offered no solace.

Lost in contemplation, I wandered through the busy streets, each step distancing me further from my condo.

My heart ached for clarity, for … love.

Neon lights and distant laughter seemed like echoes, unable to break through my thoughts.

Then, an eerie feeling washed over me, as if someone's gaze was fixated on me, making my skin crawl.

I turned around swiftly, eyes darting in every direction, but th e street was deserted, save for wisps of smoke swirling around the glowing sign of "Carlo's Bar."

The hairs on my neck stood on end, a shiver running down my spine, yet no one was in sight.

What if Marina was after me?

No, that's impossible.

Feeling a sudden rush of fear, I made the decision to head home.

Passing by the bar, I stole a glance inside. It was nearly deserted, save for an elderly man in an apron, polishing a glass with a toothpick in his teeth, his gaze fixed on The Godfather playing on the TV.

The barman, cheeks flushed, wiped his tears with his apron just as Michael Corleone visits his father, Vito Corleone, in the hospital after he has been shot.

The sound of an ambulance whizzing by startled me, and I had to laugh at myself for unintentionally stalking the poor guy who was just having his emotional breakdown of the day.

Taking a deep breath out, I felt completely exhausted, yearning to crawl into bed and leave the night behind.