“You know,” she says through a mouthful, “the part where half the hotel thought Artyom was about to throw Boris through a wall?”
I drop into the chair across from them, my arms folding automatically. “You saw it?”
“Oh, we heard about it,” Milana says, shrugging. “Apparently half the staff’s still talking about it. The entire lobby heard Boris.”
Calina gives her a look, a soft warning, like she’s trying to keep her sister from pushing too hard. “Be nice.”
“Iambeing nice,” Milana insists, taking another bite. “I’m just saying—Boris Petrov, Artyom Morozov, public argument, fiancée standing in the middle of it? That’s premium drama. People would pay to see that.”
I lean back in my chair, dragging a hand through my damp hair. “Glad to know my humiliation’s so entertaining.”
Milana winces a little, guilt flickering across her face. “Okay, maybe not entertaining. Just… shocking. You should’ve seen Calina’s face when she heard.”
Calina ignores her and slides a cup of coffee toward me. “Drink. You look pale.”
I wrap my hands around the cup, letting the warmth settle into my palms. The smell alone makes something in my chest loosen. “Thanks.”
Calina sits down across from me, straight-backed, controlled, every movement deliberate. Milana, on the other hand, kicks one foot over the arm of her chair and hums under her breath, completely unbothered by the tension.
“So what actually happened?” Calina asks gently. “All we’ve heard are versions.”
I stare at the dark surface of my coffee for a moment. “Irina Petrov. And her father.”
Milana tilts her head. “What did she say?”
I let out a small laugh that dies before it really starts. “She didn’t have to say much. Just the usual—smiling while being awful. Passive-aggressive in a way that every word sounds polite until you actually think about it.”
They wait. Calina’s quiet, patient. Milana’s eyes keep flicking between my face and the window, like she’s deciding whether it’s the right time to joke or stay serious.
Finally, I say it. “Boris called methis.Like I was dirt. And then he asked if Artyom had replaced her with me. In front of everyone.”
Milana stops chewing. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
Calina’s face tightens, her brows drawing together. “That’s cruel, even for Boris.”
“Yeah,” Milana says under her breath. “I hope Artyom said something back.”
I look up at her. “He did.”
Calina studies me for a moment. “You sound… conflicted.”
“Because I am,” I say, the words sharper than I mean them to be. “He defended me. I didn’t ask him to, but he did. And now everyone’s looking at me like I just caused an international scandal.”
Calina leans forward. “What exactly happened between them, Kira?”
I tell them and when I finish, Calina exhales slowly, the sound more like resignation than surprise. Milana lets out a low whistle, leaning back in her chair.
“He grabbed Boris?” she says, eyes wide. “Like actually grabbed him?”
“Yeah.”
She blinks, setting her fork down on the plate with a soft clink. “Wow.”
Calina’s posture straightens, her fingers folding neatly in her lap. Her voice is calm, but there’s tension hiding under it. “That’s… not good.”
I stare at her. “You think?”
