Page 89 of Rafi

“Why not?” My voice rises, frustration and uncertainty crashing over me like a tidal wave. “Why the hell not, Tayana? What’s stopping you?”

“I can’t do this,” she snaps, her voice suddenly fierce. “I can’t leave with you. I can’t leave Russia. I don’twantto leave.”

Her words hit me like a freight train. “Why not?” I ask, my voice incredulous. “You had no intention of coming back to Russia. Why now are you so eager to stay? Are they forcing you to stay here?” I chuck my chin in the direction of her father and uncle.

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks now, freezing almost instantly in the biting wind. “They’re not forcingme to do anything, Rafi,” she chokes out. “I want to be here. This is where I belong.”

“You swore you’d never come back here. What’s changed?”

“People change.I’vechanged. This is my home, Rafi. This is where I belong.”

My chest feels like it’s been cracked open, every word she says slicing deeper and deeper. “You don’t get to stand here and tell me you’ve changed. People don’t change in a month, Tayana! You are the person you’ve always been,” I say, my voice trembling. “I love all of you, Tayana. The good, the bad, the broken pieces. I loveevery…damn… part of you.”

She turns away, her hands clutching the railing like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. “It will never work between us. We will never work,” she whispers.

“How do you know that if you won’t even give us a chance, Tayana?” I step closer, bridging the distance between us. “Why won’t you take a chance on me? Onus? Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll walk away. But if there’s even a part of you that still feels something, anything—then fight for this. Fight for us, Tayana.”

She doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders shake, her sobs muffled by the wind. I reach out, my hand hovering just above her shoulder, hesitant, afraid. Finally, she speaks, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

“I don’t know how,” she says, broken.

My hand drops to my side, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. “Then let me show you,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Let me show you how to love me, let me show you how to fight for us. Please, Tayana.”

She turns to face me then, her face streaked with tears, her eyes filled with an anguish so deep it makes my knees weak. “I’m scared,” she admits, and the vulnerability in her voice shatters whatever resolve I have left.

“So am I,” I say, stepping closer until we’re almost touching. “But we can be scared together. Just… don’t shut me out. Don’t let this be the way our story ends.”

For a moment, I think she might give in. Her eyes soften, and she looks at me like she wants to believe, like she wants to hope. She looks at me the way that only a woman in love would look at a man. But then she shakes her head, stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. And with that, she turns and walks inside, leaving me alone on the frozen balcony, the weight of her absence crushing me.

51

TAYANA

Breaking Rafi’s heart feels like I’m severing a piece of my soul. I can still see the devastation in his eyes, the silent plea for a reason, for anything that would make sense of what I was doing. But I couldn’t give him that. He wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t leave. And I need him to leave without me.

The memory clings to me like a heavy shroud as I sit at the dinner table with Anton and Igor. The air feels thick, tension simmering just below the surface. The clink of cutlery against porcelain plates punctuates the silence. The quiet doesn’t bother me; it’s the weight of Anton’s gaze that I can’t ignore.

He leans back in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing in contemplation. “More importantly,” he says, his tone casual but cutting through the silence like a blade, “I want to know what happened between you and Rafi Gatti.”

My stomach tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. I’ve been avoiding this conversation for days, deflecting questions and changing subjects whenever it came up. But Anton isn’t one to let things go.

“Nothing happened,” I say lightly, spearing an asparagus tip with my fork and popping it into my mouth. The bitter taste does nothing to dull the ache in my chest.

“Nothing?” Anton’s voice carries the weight of disbelief. “What do you mean, nothing?”

“Exactly that. Nothing happened,” I reply, keeping my tone steady. “I told him it was over, and that was that. He went home and I’m here, as you can see.”

Anton’s brows knit together in confusion, but it’s Igor’s reaction that catches me off guard. He sets his fork down carefully, his movements deliberate and looks at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time.

“You love him,” he says, his voice low but resolute.

My heart skips a beat, and I glance away, focusing on the edge of my napkin. It’s the first time Igor has even come close to acknowledging the thread between me and Rafi. He fought against us every step of the way, insisting that Rafi was a distraction, a danger, a temptation I couldn’t afford. Yet now, the realization in his voice cuts deeper than any of his past objections.

“Does it matter?” I ask, dabbing at my mouth with the napkin to hide the tremor in my hands. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Igor? You couldn’t keep my mother by your side, but I’m the poor substitute who will never leave you.”

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, cold and biting. The flicker of pain in Igor’s eyes is immediate, and I hate myself for it. I hate the way his jaw tightens, the way he looks away as if my words have struck a nerve too raw to bear.

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