His hand moves to my face. Thumb tracing my cheekbone. And then he starts speaking.
Russian rolls off his tongue—low, rough, beautiful. I don’t understand the words, but I feel them. In the way his voice drops. In the way his eyes never leave mine. In the way his hand trembles just slightly against my skin.
“Ya vas lyubil: lyubov yeshcho, byt mozhet,V dushe moyey ugasla ne sovsem;No pust ona vas bolshe ne trevozhit;Ya ne khochu pechalit vas nichem.
“Ya vas lyubil bezmolvno, beznadyozhno,To robostyu, to revnostyu tomim;Ya vas lyubil tak iskrenno, tak nezhno,Ya lyublyu tebya.”
It sounds like a song. Like something ancient and important.
When he finishes, the silence sits heavy between us.
“What did you just say?” I whisper.
He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “Pushkin. ‘I loved you.’”
“That’s the title?”
“Part of it.” His jaw works. “It’s about… loving someone so deeply that even when it’s over, you still want them to be loved by someone else. To be happy. Even if it’s not with you.”
My chest tightens. “That’s sad.”
“It is.” His forehead touches mine. “But the last part—there’s a line I changed.”
“Changed how?”
His voice drops lower. Rougher. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
The words curl around me. Warm. Heavy. Important.
“What does that mean?”
He’s quiet for so long that I think he won’t answer.
Then: “It means I’m coming back.”
That’s not what it means. I can hear it in his voice. In the way he won’t quite meet my eyes now.
But I don’t push. Because maybe he needs this. The safety of another language. The distance it creates.
“Say it again,” I whisper.
His eyes finally meet mine. Dark. Intense. Vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen.
“Ya lyublyu tebya, Mary.”
I don’t know what the words mean exactly. But I feel them settle into my bones. Into my chest. Into the space where my heart keeps beating his name.
“Teach me,” I say softly. “Teach me how to say it back.”
Something flickers across his face. Surprise. Fear. Hope.
“You don’t know what it means.”
“I know enough.” I cup his face with both hands. “Teach me.”
He’s quiet. Then, so quietly I almost miss it: “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
I repeat it. Slowly. Carefully. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
