“Only because I gave him tuna-flavored bribes.”
“Still. Thank you, Mary. I mean it.”
We say our goodbyes, promise to text soon, and hang up.
The second the call ends, the quiet wraps back around me like a too-heavy blanket.
I stare at my phone.
Nothing from Anton. No check-in. No warning. Just… nothing.
My stomach rumbles, loud and rude. I press a hand over it like that’ll shut it up. There’s too much noise in my head to think about food anyway.
I glance at the door, then back at my screen. He said I’d start training tomorrow. Early. But now I’m not sure what that means. Who’s training me? Him? Dima?
Is he even coming back?
Or am I just supposed to wait around like furniture and figure it out?
A quiet ache settles behind my ribs. Not sharp. Just… there. That hollow feeling you get when someone’s left the room and taken all the air with them.
I tap the keyboard.
Hey, are you okay?
No. Too clingy.
Delete.
Is something going on?
Too vague.
Delete.
Are you mad at me?
God.
I close my eyes. Then delete again.
It’s fine. He’s fine.
Except… what if he’s not?
What if whatever made Dima go full Ice Mission earlier was something serious? A threat? A hit? A warning?
What if Anton’s in danger?
He kills people. People might be trying to kill him right now.
What if I never see him again?
The thought lands somewhere behind my ribs—low, dull, and surprisingly sharp at the same time. Like something I’ve been trying not to feel finally caught up to me.
Because this isn’t some hot barista I’m crushing on. This is Anton Malikov.
And yet… The idea of him not coming back? Of never hearing his voice again? It knocks the breath out of me more than I want to admit.
