“I will.”
He leans down and kisses me, soft and lingering. The kind of kiss that makes everything feel right again.
“I’ll see you after class,” he murmurs against my lips.
I watch him walk away, tall and steady, and even though I still feel queasy, my heart feels light.
Because somehow, even when everything feels uncertain, being with him makes me feel safe.
SEVENTEEN
Dmitry
“Where are you taking me?”I ask.
Callista’s fingers squeeze mine as she leads me forward, her laugh soft and secretive. A silk blindfold covers my eyes, blocking out everything but the sound of her voice and the faint click of her heels on the floor.
“Patience,” she says, her tone laced with amusement. “You’ll ruin the surprise if you keep asking.”
I sigh, pretending to be annoyed even though I’m smiling. “You know I hate surprises.”
“I know,” she says, tugging me closer. “That’s why I planned one.”
Her hand is warm, her steps confident. I can hear faint music. Soft piano notes. A sweet and buttery aroma drifts through the air. My stomach tightens, curiosity rising.
“Okay,” she says finally, her voice a whisper at my ear. “You can take it off now.”
I pull off the blindfold, blinking as light floods my eyes.
And then I stop breathing.
The room has been transformed.
It’s quiet and private, decorated with soft white lights that hang across the ceiling like stars. There’s a small table set for two, covered with linen and silverware, candles flickering between us. On one side of the room, a cake sits waiting—dark chocolate, decorated with tiny edible gears, a nod to my obsession with precision and control.
“Happy birthday,” she says shyly.
For a long moment, I can’t speak.
She did this for me.
“It’s…” I clear my throat, still stunned. “Perfect.”
Her eyes brighten. “You like it?”
“Like it?” I step closer, sliding a hand around her waist. “You planned all this just for me.”
She nods, looking pleased. “You’ve done so much for me. You take care of me, you’ve been my rock. This was the least I could do.”
My chest feels too tight. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
The table is filled with food—blini with caviar, pelmeni, roast chicken, and honey cake. My mother used to make meals like this before she died. My heart fills with emotion.
“You talked to Lena, didn’t you?” I ask, recognizing the dishes.
Callista grins. “I asked her what you like to eat. I wanted it to feel like home. I wanted to feed you the dishes you love on your birthday.”
