Roman
"Fucked up."
I burst into the office with such a roar that even the dark walls seemed to come alive in response to the sound. The door slammed shut with a sharp thud, as if the entire house was trying to digest my rage. I stood there, frozen in a moment of despair and anger. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest. There was residual pain under my fingernails, and my gaze was fixed on the table-the table that had always been the center of my world, my work, my power. But now it seemed alien, filled only with emptiness and cold.
I couldn't understand what had happened. How had it all happened? She had disappeared like a shadow, leaving behind only these words. "I was kidnapped. That's why I ran away." The words that burst from her mouth cut into my consciousness, tore me apart like an icy arrow. But even so, I can't show it to her.
I saw her always strong, always confident, full of power and control. And now she was gone, as if she had never existed, and I brought her back to this world, having learned the truth, that something strange remained as a burden inside me. And what had I been doing all this time? How could I not have noticed? I, who was always one step ahead, who thought I was impenetrable, turned out to be blind. So she left me in the darkness, outside her world. It was excruciating.
I paced the room, my steps heavy, almost loud. I approached the desk, stopped in front of it, as if before a court. My fingers slid over the smooth surface, as if trying to hold on, to cling to something familiar, but nothing could bring back the previous reality. The office was like a huge cage, full of memories and deceptions. High ceilings, antique chairs, a massive desk that now looked not like an object of power, but like a grave of my confidence. Like this whole life I had built. I was like a man who had lost his way in a forest, where every tree became an obstacle, and every step a mistake.
My gaze caught on the hairpin on the floor that I had dropped a while ago. At first I didn't even understand what it was, but then I felt its metallic coldness, like a reminder that she was no longer around. She hadn't run away. And not now, because krasavica was too distant mentally. The hairpin wasn't just an accessory - it was a weapon, like Melissa herself. I remembered how often she picked it up, fixing her hair, but something told me that the hairpin was hiding something more than just an item for decoration. Now this weapon remained on the floor of my office, and I clutched it in my hands, not knowing what to do with this knowledge, when I crouched down and grabbed Mel's thing. It was like proof that her life had always been a dangerous game, and she was ready for any fight.
"Why didn't you say anything?" My voice was barely audible and seemed broken. I was talking to myself, trying to find answers to the questions that were falling on me with such force that it seemed I would not stand under their weight. My palm squeezed the hairpin, and a sharp pain pierced the skin. A drop of blood slowly flowed down my finger and dripped onto the floor. I didn't even notice how it happened. My whole life, like this drop, was full of such insignificant but bright traces that remained after each of my steps.
I couldn't do this anymore. This pain, this anger, this senseless tirade of thoughts that couldn't calm down or give me answers. Melissa left me with this after her words, and I couldn't understand how she could do this. Why didn't she tell me everything? Why didn't she let me be there when she needed it? I thought I was smart enough to understand her, to recognize her signals, but I was just a toy in her hands, unable to see the truth. Or rather, because of my stupid feelings. If I hadn't fallen in love with her, hadn't overheard the conversation, I would have been able to protect her.
I dropped the hairpin on the floor and went to the window again, opening it wide. Warm air rushed into the room, but it did nothing to ease my suffering. A sharp wind hit my face, bringing with it the smell of summer rain and dampness. Outside, I could see the city, hidden in gray fog, where the buildings were lost in the sky like lost dreams. But all this was alien to me. I felt no connection to this world, no sense that this was my reality. This room was the only place where I could be myself, and now even it seemed alien to me.
"I was kidnapped. I was beaten, returned and you didn't even notice." These words haunted me. I turned to the table, my gaze stopped again on the hairpin. Why didn't she warn me? Why didn't she trust me? Although, if she didn't dream of getting rid of me, it means she couldn't trust me. The last drop of trust evaporated at that moment when I didn't notice. Idiot. You're an idiot, Kirillov. My steps crossed the room again and raised the knife-hairpin. I needed this pain. In blood.
I squeezed the pin again so hard that the pain echoed through my body again. But I still couldn't let it go. It was connected to her, and for me it was the last link connecting me to what had been before.
Blood slowly trickled down my palm, dripping onto the floor like it was some weird ritual. Drip. Drip. Drip. Fucking shit. We loved each other. Then we hated each other for different reasons. And now she wants nothing to do with me and me? And I love her like she's my air. Again.
Roman and Melissa. These two could have been a perfect couple, if they hadn't been allies and opponents in a complex game of feelings and ambitions. I grinned and dropped the hairpin again and grabbed a handkerchief from the table to wipe away the blood. The white fabric immediately became stained with scarlet.
Our relationship was like a dance on a thin blade, where every move was either a step forward or a fatal blow. Love and hate, intertwined in our history, were inseparable, like light and shadow.
I remembered the first time I saw her. She appeared suddenly but long-awaited, like a whirlwind that destroys everything in its path, leaving chaos and charm in its wake. There was something about her that immediately stood out from the usual order of my world. Self-confidence that bordered on impudence, and grace that seemed innate. She knew how to carry herself in such a way that even in the most difficult situation she remained calm, as if she knew something that no one else knew. Her mystery did not just attract me - it captured me completely, forcing me to lose control over myself, something that I always valued above all else.
The love I felt for her then too was not soft and not touching. It was cruel, all-consuming, almost painful. I always considered myself a person of logic and order, but with Melissa all my plans, all my calculations turned into nothing. She came into my life like a storm, destroying the usual foundations, and made me feel. But it was precisely this force of our attraction that always frightened me. Love for Melissa was a weakness for me, and weakness is something I could not allow myself. But I always allowed it because of her.
And then... I hated her as much as I loved her. The hatred was born of her insubordination, her ability to slip out of my hands at the most important moment. She didn't belong to me anymore, no matter how much I wanted her to. Her independence was like the thorns of a rose - she attracted me with her beauty, but every time I tried to get too close, she hurt me.
But was it her fault? I was a master of control, used to being in control. With Melissa, it was different. She broke my rules, violated my boundaries, tore down the walls I built around my heart. She didn't do it on purpose, not trying to hurt me, but simply because she was herself.
Melissa was everything I hated and everything I sought. She was the chaos I tried to avoid and the challenge I couldn't ignore. She was vulnerability and strength, the thing that reminded me I was still alive.
I wondered why I couldn't let her go even when she ran away. Why, despite everything she'd done, I kept reaching out to her? Her lies, her secrets, her constant need to stay one step ahead irritated me to the point of insanity. But when she was gone, my world became too quiet. It was the silence that scared me most. Without her, I was empty, like a house without light, like a painting without paint.
I loved her for her strength. I still love her. For the fact that she wasn't afraid to go against me, that she could challenge my authority and not flinch under my gaze. She was my equal, and that wasn't something I saw often. She knew how to play, how to manipulate, but unlike others, she didn't do it for profit, but for survival. I admired that.
But it was precisely this admiration that turned into hatred. He hated her because she was stronger than he wanted her to be. He wanted her weak, dependent on him, but she never allowed herself to be that way. She left when he thought he had finally found a way to hold on to her. She slipped away like water, leaving him in excruciating loneliness.
And yet, despite all this, I could not forget her. Her smile, her voice, her look - all of it haunted me even in my dreams. She was my curse, my obsession, my greatest loss.
Melissa saw in me what I hid from everyone else. She knew that beneath my cold facade lay a man capable of deep feelings. She knew that I was afraid of those feelings, afraid that they would make me vulnerable. And that's why she stayed with me until the end, because she had hope in me again. And I failed her. She didn't try to change me, but she wanted me to see the humanity in myself that I had so carefully hidden. To open up to her again.
Our relationship was like a struggle, a war where there were no winners. Each of us tried to prove to the other our strength, our independence. But the more we fought, the stronger our attachment became. It was a bond that was impossible to get rid of, like chains that pulled them together even when we wanted to leave. Divorce. God, as if that could stop us.
For me, love and hate for Melissa were inseparable. I couldn't love her without hating her, and I couldn't hate her without loving her. She was my test, my karma, my only true feeling in a world full of lies and betrayal.
And even now, holding the handkerchief with the blood from her hairpin in my hands, I felt those feelings coming over me again. She was far away mentally, but in my thoughts she was closer than ever.
I knew I could never forget her. She was a part of me, my shadow, my light. She was the one who destroyed my world to build a new one, but left me alone to make this choice.
Loving Melissa was my weakness. Hating her was my strength. But both were what kept me alive. And now I was ready to fight for her again, even if it meant fighting myself.
I didn't know how much time had passed. Time in that office flowed like butter. Thoughts followed each other, and it all came together to form a vague picture that was increasingly crumbling. I closed my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts, but it was harder each time. Anger, anxiety, pain - everything mixed into some crazy cocktail that did not give me clarity.
The silence in the room was frightening. I didn't know how to continue. What should I do? I was so absorbed in myself that I didn't notice how my fingers began to slide over my palm, feeling how the blood soaked the handkerchief even more but began to stop. And only then did a knock on the door catch my attention. I barely noticed the sound, as if I was in another world, but when the door opened, I was brought back to reality.
"What?" My voice was low and hard. I didn't want to be distracted, but something about this was inevitable.
Mikhail, my faithful assistant, entered, looking at Roman with concern in his eyes.
"Alex has arrived," he said.
I sighed, trying to regain control. Alex. Not the one who could solve my problems, but the one who could remind me of them. Alex was always there, always interfering, like an uninvited guest. I, that his arrival was not accidental. Well, of course, because we planned it. It was not to persuade him to leave everything, but to put a knife in his heart again. He still has my children. In fact, everyone thought I would start a war, but I did not want that. First, just to talk, because I want Mel and the children to be safe.
"Where is he?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
"In the winter garden," answered Misha.
I nodded. I didn't have time for unnecessary words.
"Tell him to wait," I said. "I'll be there soon. And tell Melissa later."
Misha nodded and left, leaving me with my thoughts and the feelings that were haunting me. I looked again at the blood, the stain on the handkerchief, and realized that my battle was just beginning.
***
In the winter garden, Alex stood by the window, his silhouette casting a long shadow on the floor. In one hand he held a glass of whiskey, with the other he tapped the windowsill, as if trying to contain his inner tension.
I closed the door a little louder than I should have. Alex turned around, his gaze cold and searching.
"Are you always so vocal about yourself?" Alex asked, not hiding his mockery.
I came closer, not taking my eyes off.
"Do you always show up as if you're welcome here?"
"If you didn't want to see me, I wouldn't have come." Alex took a sip of whiskey and returned the glass to the table.
"Alex," I said coldly, not even turning away and holding his gaze.
"You don't look well, Roman. Are you okay?" Alex's voice was mocking, but there was a hint of wariness in it.
"Fine," I replied, walking up to him and leaning my shoulder against the window next to him. "And you? After all, your wife is dead. Although...wait, she was a psychopath and you killed her yourself."
Alex shrugged slightly, his gaze darting around the room as if he was looking for something that would confirm his suspicions.
"I'm doing great. But it seems that things aren't going so smoothly with your little empire. Rumors, you know, travel fast."
"You should be careful with such rumors," I crossed my arms over my chest, my tone becoming threatening. "They may lead you to the wrong place."
Alex laughed, but it was dry and lacking in real humor.
"You've always been like this: in control until everything falls apart. And now you stand here like you're the master of the world, but I can see you're on the edge, Roman."
I clenched my fists but didn't let myself lose my temper. I knew Alex was trying to get me mad, and letting that happen would give him the upper hand.
"It's none of your business. Give the children back to their parents and there will be no war." he said sharply. "I don't have time for idle chatter. So just agree and I won't rip your heart out right here and now."
Alex took a few steps forward, now we were almost at arm's length. His smirk disappeared and his voice became cold.
"First tell me where she is, Roman?"
The question sounded like a gunshot. I didn't flinch, but something exploded inside me.
"Who?" I knew who he was talking about, but I deliberately delayed the answer to see how far Alex was willing to go.
"You know who I'm talking about. Melissa," Alex narrowed his eyes. "She disappeared from the hospital. No one knows where she is. But I'm sure you're connected to it."
I chuckled as if this conversation amused me.
"If you are so sure, why are you asking questions?"
"Because you lie. Always have. And I know she wouldn't just disappear. You don't like things being out of your control, and that makes you predictable.
Roman took a step forward, their eyes met. His eyes were icy, but there was a flicker of fire in them.
"Have you come to accuse me? Or do you have something more than just a guess?"
"I have something," Alex pulled a small envelope from his inside jacket pocket and pressed it to my chest. "It's what she left for me. Or rather, why I was late.
I took the envelope, examining it carefully. There was no name or address on it, but the handwriting was familiar. Melissa's.
"I found this on my desk just before I left to see you. Before you or any of your people could even figure out what was going on." Alex smiled, but his smile was more of a grin.
I slowly opened the envelope. Inside was a note, short, but each line was strangely cutting to the quick:
"Don't you dare start a war, Alex. This is a war where there are no winners. Only victims. And you will be my first victim, understand?"
I read the note over and over, trying to find some hidden meaning, some clue Melissa might have left just for me. But there was nothing. When had she even managed to pull this off? God, what a woman.
"What do you know about this?" I finally asked, looking up from the note.
Alex looked at me as if he wanted to gauge my reaction.
"I know she wants the kids back, too. And if she disappeared, it's because of you. Everything she was afraid of was connected to you, Roman. Even the triplets."
"Be careful what you say, Alex," I said quietly, but the threat in my tone was clear. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"What about you?" Alex leaned closer. "Do you know what's going on? Or are you as lost as I am?"
I was silent. Everything was boiling inside me, but I couldn't let it show. Alex was the enemy, smart, cunning and dangerous. But despite his words, I knew that he didn't know the whole truth either. After all, Mel was here, everything was fine, but what her new plan was, I didn't know either.
"If you ever mention anything to do with Melissa again, be prepared to face the consequences," I finally said, throwing the envelope on the floor.
Alex chuckled and took a step back.
"You never change, Roman. Always playing games, even when you lose."
"This is not a game," I replied sharply.
"For you, maybe. But for her, it seemed like it was a battle for survival."
Alex picked up the piece of paper and looked at it again.
"You know what's funny? She chose you. No matter what. And that was her biggest mistake." He began to tear the note into little pieces. "The children are mine. Only war will help you get them back."
I didn't have time to answer because we both turned our heads when we heard the door swing open.
"I'm so glad my note arrived in time, but can't you read, Alex? No war. As the mistress of this house again, I will kill you myself right here and now if my children are not with me."
She....just said....that she is the mistress of this house again?