The cat stares up at me, unimpressed.
“You’re lucky,kotyonok,” I whisper. “You have no idea what that means.”
I straighten slowly, taking one last look around. Every inch of this place hums with her presence. Her music sheets scattered across the piano bench. Her perfume still floating in the air. Her life…unguarded.
I've stayed away for too long.
Not anymore.
Chapter Three
Anya
By the time I step out of the rideshare, the night feels soft and warm. It's hard to believe it rained like crazy just hours ago. My heels click against the sidewalk, the faint echo swallowed by the hum of streetlights and the distant thrum of music from someone’s open window.
The party was fine. Loud. Glittering. Full of people pretending not to care that it’s over, that the last four years are already slipping through their fingers. I laughed, danced, and let Bryant drag me to the center of the crowd when one of our favorite songs came on. I even pretended that seeing Alexei at graduation had been some trick of the light. Because if I admit it was real—if I admit he was really there—I’ll have to face the thousand questions I’m not ready to find answers to.
Bryant walks beside me, hands in his pockets, head tilted up toward the moon like he’s thinking too much again. He’s tall, wiry, with a permanent air of quiet observation; someone who notices everything but only comments when it matters.
“You were somewhere else all night,” he says finally, glancing at me.
I shrug. “It’s the end of an era. Guess I’m sentimental.”
“Sure,” he says dryly, but he doesn’t push. That’s what makes Bryant such a good friend. He knows when to leave me alone with my thoughts.
At my building, he insists on walking me to the door. The hallway smells faintly of jasmine and the neighbor’s curry. My cat’s probably waiting by the window, tail flicking in irritation because I’m late feeding him again.
“I still have your sheet music,” I remember suddenly. “Come in for a sec? I’ll grab it.”
Bryant nods and follows me up. I fumble for my keys, talking just to fill the silence. “I can’t believe we’re done. No more exams, no more caffeine binges at 2 a.m.—”
The lock turns. The door swings open.
And the world just…stops.
Alexei is standing in my living room.
For a second, I think I’ve opened the wrong door. My brain refuses to connect the dots. The coat draped over his shoulders, the quiet intensity of his gaze, the stillness that rolls off him in waves—it’s definitely him. Older. Harder. The sharp edges of him have been honed, not softened.
“Alexei?” My voice cracks on his name.
He looks at me like he’s been waiting years to hear it. Then his eyes shift past me to Bryant, and his expression darkens instantly.
Bryant stiffens behind me. “Uh…maybe I’ll just get that sheet music another time.”
“Bryant—”
He leans in, his voice a quick whisper against my ear. “That’s him, isn’t it? The ghost.”
My throat tightens.
“Good luck, sweetheart,” he whispers, then presses a light kiss to my cheek.
Alexei growls low in his throat, a dangerous, almost bestial sound. Bryant’s eyes widen a fraction before he backs away, muttering, “Right. Leaving now.”
The door shuts behind him, sealing me inside with the storm that is Alexei Balshov.
For a long heartbeat, we just stare at each other. The air feels charged, too heavy to breathe. Alyosha appears from behind the couch, tail swishing lazily, and meows once like he’s introducing himself.
