Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 125368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Ayla Ivanshov used to be my infatuation, an addiction that had sunk deep into my skin.
But not anymore.
She had lost the shine I used to see around her. She was still beautiful. I still found myself drawn to her sweet voice and her sweet smile, her innocent soul. Yet…
Ayla was no longer the light, the sun and stars of my existence.
All I felt for her had disappeared into thin air. It had been gone for some time. I was only seeing that now.
The realization cut me deep, and I almost sank to my knees. My eyes closed and I inhaled.
Peaches and sunshine. The scent hit me like a bulldozer, and warmth spread through my veins.
Valerie.
She was my moon.
It was a simple fact that slipped into my head, and I felt it all the way down to my toes. At the thought of her, my heart did a strange dance, a beat that only belonged to Valerie.
A strange dizziness settled over me, and I could almost feel Valerie touching my skin, setting my soul on fire with just a simple kiss of her touch.
My sweet myshka.
My once silent myshka.
Opening my eyes again, I found Ayla still sitting at the piano.
There always came a time in your life when you realized that not everything seemed to be what it was. It was fate’s favorite game to play. It twisted you in knots, forced you to feel something for a moment, and then it ripped everything away, giving you something else before you could even blink.
Sometimes it took you a long time to realize what you had…what you felt…where you really belonged.
Sometimes we still lived in the past, refusing to see our present and future.
We were blinded by what we thought we wanted.
Fate only laughed at us.
Just like that, I was given a new beginning.
I always wanted what Ayla and Alessio had.
Fate gave it to me.
I was just realizing it now.
Smiling, I walked forward to Ayla and sat beside her on the piano bench. She stopped playing and glanced up at me. “There is something you want to tell me,” she said with a knowing look in her eyes.
“Yes,” I confessed, looking down at the piano keys.
Ayla let out a small laugh. “Tell me your secrets, Viktor.”
“I met someone—”
“I know.”
I stiffened, and my head snapped up to find her smiling. “Alessio told you?”
She shrugged before taking my fist into her hands. A year ago, I craved her touch. And now, the feel of her warm hands around mine, it was only for comfort.
Two friends spilling their secrets to each other.
I felt her support, and I knew she cared.
There was nothing more than a respect we shared for each other.
When she spoke, I knew Ayla understood me. My fears. My dilemma. “Even if he didn’t, I would have been able to tell. There is something different about you. You seem wound up, as if you’re missing someone. I look into your eyes and it’s the same way I feel when Alessio is away from me and I can’t reach for his warmth.”
I swallowed, a lump now forming in my throat. “I do miss her. A lot. And it’s only been two days. How is that even possible?” I murmured.
“She means a lot to you?”
I nodded silently. “So much. She means so much to me, Ayla. I can’t…I don’t know what to do without her. I need her.”
Ayla brought our hands to her lap. “Do you know what love is, Viktor?” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze.
My eyes closed for a fraction before I opened them again and fixated Ayla with a stare.
I didn’t answer, my throat feeling clogged and my emotions overwhelming me.
“Love is freedom. Love is when you find both escape and shelter in one person. They become your home,” Ayla confessed quietly. Her voice was soothing, and I imagined Valerie in this moment.
Ayla was right.
Love was when you found home in one person’s embrace.
I thought about how Valerie had a way of calming the raging storms in me. How I could breathe better in her presence. She compelled me in a way no one had ever done.
“Viktor,” Ayla said, bringing my attention back to her, “the best love story is when you fall in love at the most unexpected time, with the most unexpected person. It is the type of love that burns the brightest and lasts the longest.”
I wanted to rebut her. Tell her that love stories didn’t exist in this world.
I wanted to tell her that Viktor Ivanshov had no weakness…
“Thank you,” I choked out. The sincerity rung clear in my voice. Reaching forward, I hugged Ayla to my chest. “Thank you.”
For a moment we clung to each other. I couldn’t speak, my sudden frenzied emotion making it impossible to continue a conversation.
It was quite hilarious. Men like me…we didn’t deserve love.