A Taste of the Bratva King
Because if I open my mouth, I'll either scream at him or break down completely, and I'm not sure which would destroy me more.
So I just keep walking.
The tears come then, hot and fast despite the cold rain. They stream down my cheeks, mixing with the water until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. My heart is breaking all over again— for Slava, who deserves better than a father who abandons him; for the baby I lost, who will never know either of us; for the man walking behind me, who I once loved; for the girl I used to be, who believed love could overcome anything.
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