He releases my wrist slowly, like he’s making sure I’m steady before letting go.
“You don’t like accepting help, do you?”
The question slides under my ribs and stays there.
“Does it show that much?” The corner of my mouth quirks.
Something warm flickers in his eyes.
“There’s cold water and aloe in the restroom up front,” he says, practical again, grounding us back in the moment. “Ask the attendant. They’ll help.”
“I will.” I hesitate, then add, “Thank you, again. For… stepping in.”
His mouth curves faintly. Not a smile. Something quieter. More private.
“I’m Astrid,” I say.
He studies me for a quiet beat, eyes steady. Unreadable.
“Nice to meet you, Astrid. I’m Yuri.”
He says my name like it tastes good, like he plans to say it again just to test the sound.
Then, unhurried, he straightens and takes the seat across from me, settling in like this was always where he planned to be.
The shift of his jacket exposes the edge of a tattoo along his collarbone, black ink trailing over skin I shouldn’t be imagining. It’s bold, controlled, the mark of a man who never does anything halfway.
His gaze lowers for a fraction of a second before lifting again.
Controlled. Brief.
The boarding announcement breaks the silence, too loud, too soon.
I glance toward the gate, then back at him, my pulse still tracing the echo of his voice.
“Sounds like we’re boarding.”
I lift my bag, though every instinct in me resists leaving. Our eyes meet again, closer than they should be, the air between us thinning.
“Enjoy Paris, Astrid.”
He says my name slowly. Intentionally. Not a goodbye.
I walk away without looking back.
By the time I reach the gate, the truth settles in.
This isn’t finished.
CHAPTER 2
ASTRID
Seat 2A. Wide leather.
Too much space for thoughts that won’t stay still.
I lower myself carefully, like my body might betray me if I move too fast.
