Page 46 of Beautifully Damned
Her eyes soften.
“Oh, sweet girl,” she whispers, stepping forward. She wraps her arms around me before I even know I need it. I fall apart in her arms. I cling to her, fists curling into her blouse like a child.
“Where is he?” I choke out. My voice cracks. “Where the hell is he?”
She sighs, stroking my hair. “He go to work. Say he stay a week, maybe more.”
“He took my virginity,” I whisper. “Said he’d try to love me. And then he just… left. He didn’t even say goodbye. Didn’t even have the decency to look me in the eye and lie again.”
She tightens her arms around me. “If he was not Pakhan,” she mutters, her tone low and dangerous, “I cut off dick and serve it on silver tray.”
I let out a broken laugh through the tears. “I think I hate him,” I lie.
She doesn’t acknowledge the lie, just presses a kiss to the top of my head. She guides me to sit on the stool, and sets a plate in front of me. Eggs, toast, a few slices of tomato sprinkled with salt.
“Eat,” she urges softly, pushing the plate a little closer.
I shake my head. My stomach is a pit of acid, my mouth dry.
“Please,” she whispers. “If Pakhan find out you no eat... he lose his mind.”
“Let him,” I snap, louder than I mean to. “Let him find out. Let him lose his damn mind. Why would he care? He didn’t care when he walked out.”
“He did wrong,” she says. “But…”
I turn my face away. “Don’t defend him.”
“I’m not. All I say is, maybe... maybe he does not know what to do with feelings. Maybe he scared. ”
“I was scared too,” is all what I say.
“You do not have to forgive,” she whispers. “But you need eat. For you. Not for him. For your strength.”
She takes the plate away when she realizes there is no getting to me.
“Come,” she says softly. “You need rest.”
She guides me upstairs, and when we reach my bed, she tucks the blanket over my legs like I’m a child. I don’t stop her.
For the next two days, all I do is rot. In bed. In silence. In shame. Elena tries to coax me out with food and sweet words. But nothing works.
I don’t eat. I don’t speak. I sleep just to escape myself. But even in dreams, he’s there.
I’m angry. Not just at him—but at me. Because I saw this coming. I knew this wasn’t a fairy tale. I knew it was a transaction masked as temptation. A man like him doesn’t love.
And still, I clung to that sliver of hope. That maybe if I gave him the softest, most vulnerable parts of me, he’d cradle them in return.
I thought I’d be stronger than this. I thought I could handle giving him my virginity and letting him forget me afterwards. And I loathe myself for my weakness. Because I walked into this with the mindset that all Roman was, was a choice. That I could sleep with him, and if he decides he wants more, I could think about it. If not, it would have just been a night of taking my power back. But in the end, all I felt was pathetic.
The door slams open.
“Elena, I swear to God, I’m not hungry,” I start to croak.
But it isn’t her.
The air shifts.
There’s that scent again—clean linen, danger, spice, and cold iron.
