His Painful Love

My steps feel light as I walk through the snowy streets of central Moscow. The cold wind bites my face, but I don't care. I've decided to take some time for myself today.

Pascha Romanov, my fiancé, is, as usual, buried under a mountain of work. Even with our wedding day only a month away, it feels like I'm spending more time with his shadowy figure than his authentic self.

As I turned the corner, my eyes fell on a magnificent church with golden domes rising into the grey sky.

St. Sophia's Church.

I was transfixed. Although I grew up in Bogota, Colombia, surrounded by old churches with stunning architecture, none were as beautiful as this one. Its dome reflected the gloomy light of the winter sun like the building had a light of its own.

"This is it," I muttered involuntarily.

With my heart pounding, I imagined myself standing under the dome, wearing a white dress, with Pascha by my side. A smile was painted on my face.

Would Pascha have time to see this place with me? Or, as usual, would I have to make this big decision alone?

I let out a long breath, discarding that thought. For now, I should show him about this. He would definitely agree.

::::

The Romanov Corporation office stands like a giant in the centre of Moscow, its entire glass wall reflecting the cold city sky.

I enter the lobby, briefly greet the receptionist, who already knows my face, and then head straight for the elevator to the top floor—Pascha's private office.

When the elevator doors opened, a quiet atmosphere greeted me. Usually, Pascha's secretary would be standing at the small reception desk in front of his office, but this time it was empty.

I knocked on the large wooden door, then opened it slowly. "Pascha?"

I stopped. Inside the room was someone I wasn't expecting at all—

Mikaela Morris.

"Mikaela?" I heard her name come out of my mouth before I could think.

She turned around quickly, almost dropping the stack of documents in her hands. Her face looked tense, and her smile was... nothing like the best friend's smile that I was used to warmly welcoming.

"Belva! Oh... hi! I didn't know you were coming." Her tone sounded nervous, almost rushed.

"I didn't know you were here either," I replied as I stepped inside. I looked at her intently, trying to figure out why she was in Pascha's office. Especially in Moscow, not in New York.

"I'm on... uh, work," she replied.

"Work?" I repeated her words in an incredulous tone. "Here? At the Romanov headquarters? You didn't even tell me you were coming to Moscow."

"It was spur of the moment," she said with a gulp. "Your boyfriend asked me to come for... to handle some important matters."

Something didn't feel right.

There was a pause between her words, and there was a nervousness in every one of her usually fluid movements. I looked around the room, hoping to find Pascha's whereabouts, but he wasn't here. Only Mikaela stood awkwardly by the large table.

"Where is he?" I asked.

Mikaela opened her mouth, but no answer came out. I could see her face turning red, her hands gripping the document tighter. It felt like she was keeping a big secret that she didn't want to reveal in front of me.

But I just stood here, waiting, refusing to look away.

The door behind me opened, the heavy sound of its hinges breaking the silence. I turned around, and there he stood, Pascha Romanov.

His black fur jacket had not been removed, emphasizing his towering figure, while his gaze was sharp and hard to read. His grey eyes met mine, then Mikaela's.

"Bee." He called me. His tone was flat, too calm. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and set the leather briefcase he was carrying on the floor.

"Pash," I called his name, keeping my voice from breaking. "What's going on here?" I glanced at Mikaela, who was now standing stiffly.

"What do you mean?" Pascha walked past Mikaela without a word, stopped at his desk, and began to slowly remove his gloves. His movements were measured, as they always were. Still, there was something behind the expression on his face that made my blood rush uncomfortably.

"Mikaela is here," I said, emphasizing every word.

Pascha raised his eyebrows. "Mikaela works for this company. It's natural that I ask her to come when there's an important project that requires her attention."

"Important project?" I repeated his words sceptically. "So urgent that you didn't tell me? She’s my bestfriend."

He sighed, then turned his body fully toward me. "I don't have time to go over the logistics of each of my employees' schedules, Bee. And Mikaela is under no obligation to report to you."

His tone was cold, like a painful lash. I stared at him, feeling a surge of emotion that I could no longer contain.

"That's not the point, Pascha."

Mikaela opened her mouth, perhaps intending to defend herself, but Pascha raised his hand, stopping her. “I'll explain to her."

I held my breath as he stepped closer to me. His signature scent—a combination of sandalwood and something masculine—was strong, but it didn't feel soothing this time.

He stopped just a few steps away from me, bending down slightly so his eyes were level with mine.

"It's not something you think about," he said softly, almost a whisper. "Mikaela is here for work. Nothing else."

There was something in his voice that made me want to believe him, but the image of a nervous Mikaela, the pile of documents in her hands, and the strange silence in this room were like ghosts that kept haunting me.

"Is that so?" I asked to her, turning my body to look at my best friend.

Mikaela looked like she wanted to disappear. "I... yes, I'm here to help Pascha. That's all."

Her voice was low, barely audible. But there was a tone behind her words that was out of tune, like a piano being struck with a false note.

I felt my blood begin to boil. "I'm not a fool," I muttered, half to myself, half to both of them. "If there's something you're hiding from me, I'll find out."

Pascha reached out his hand, trying to touch my arm, but I took a step back. "Bee," he said again, his voice softer now. "You know I would never lie to you."

I looked into his eyes, trying to find something—honesty, or maybe betrayal. But his gaze was so calm, so sure, that I began to doubt myself.

In the corner of the room, Mikaela bowed her head, avoiding my gaze.

"Of course," I muttered at last, though my voice sounded foreign to my own ears. "Of course you wouldn't lie."

But deep in my heart, I knew I would not sleep well tonight.

::::

One Month Later.

The morning was cold, and the snow falling slowly outside the window seemed to be a white curtain separating me from the outside world.

I stood in front of the large mirror in the room reserved for me, wearing the wedding dress I had carefully chosen. The golden dome of St. Sophia looks majestic from where I stand, like a dream come true.

In a few hours, I would say my wedding vows there, in front of God, family, and friends.

Pascha has apologized many times in the past month. And although it took time to trust him again, I finally let his warmth melt away my anger and suspicion.

We talked, we argued, we cried—and in the end, we found our way back together. Our nights were filled with honest conversations and... undeniable heat. I wanted to believe that this was a new beginning for both of us.

I smoothed my dress, letting my fingertips trace the delicate lace. Today was supposed to be a perfect day. Yet, for some reason, there's something niggling in the pit of my stomach, like a faint premonition that I can't ignore.

The door behind me opened with a soft sound, and I turned my head. Benito, my twin brother, was standing there. His normally cheerful and teasing face now looked serious, almost tense.

He stepped in carefully, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked with a smile. "I thought you were busy making sure all the guests found their seats."

Benito didn't answer. He just leaned closer, phone in hand, and his dark eyes searched my face. "Bell-Bell," he said finally, his voice low and heavy. "There's something you need to see."

I furrowed my brow.

He thrust the screen at me. "You need to see this. Now."

I took the phone hesitantly, feeling my heart start to race. The screen played a video.

The video begins with a familiar Pascha room in his company building. The camera swayed slightly as if it had been taken surreptitiously. Then, a very familiar figure appeared.

Pascha. He was standing next to his desk, talking to someone.

Someone I also knew very well.

Mikaela.

At first, they were just talking. But then, everything changed. Mikaela came closer, her hand touching Pascha's arm in a way that was too intimate, too familiar. Pascha did not back away.

Instead, he pulled her closer. And before I could catch my breath, they were kissing.

Not only that...

The following scenes made my blood run cold. Their touches, their sighs, their bodies joined together on the table...

The phone slipped from my hand, falling to the floor with a loud thud. I couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

The world around me felt like it was collapsing.

"Bell..." Benito called softly, his hand moving to touch my shoulder.

But I pulled back, looking up at him with eyes that were now starting to get hot with tears. "When... when was this taken?"

"A few weeks ago,"

I shook my head slowly, trying to digest everything. This couldn't be. Not after all our talks. Not after all his promises.

Tears started streaming down my cheeks, soaking my wedding dress. I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the wave of emotions that flooded my body.

"What do you want to do?"

His voice echoed in the distance, his face a blur. There were only fragments of the video, constantly playing in my mind.

Mikaela, my best friend.

Pascha, the man I thought loved me.

The ceiling that felt oppressive now seems to be collapsing. I got up from the chair, my legs trembling slightly.

"Ben," I looked up at my twin brother with eyes blurred by tears.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Get the car ready," I said quickly, my eyes no longer looking at him but directly at the balcony at the end of this floor through the vast wall of glass. "Park right under that balcony in another room. I'm going to jump." 

"What? That’s insane!" Ben tries to grab my arm, but I take a step back. 

"I'm serious," I retorted, my voice shaking with mounting emotion. "If you care about me, just do it."

For a moment, he just stared at me. But then he nodded slowly, though his jaw was set like stone. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room with hurried steps. 

I sighed, allowing myself a moment to feel the collapse of emotions inside my chest. But only for a moment.

 I walked to the door, pulling the handle calmly, even though my whole body felt like it was going to explode. When the door opened, I saw a spacious floor and a short hallway with guests passing by. 

"Belva!" a cousin of mine waved, smiling widely, trying to come over. 

I smiled back, pretending to be calm, stepping past her with my head held high.

Just as I passed an old woman in an emerald green dress, my aunt, Doña Clara, squinted at me. "Bell-bell, you look pale. Are you okay?" 

My heart almost stopped. I forced a small laugh. "Just a little nervous, Tía. I'm fine." 

She stared at me for a while longer, her eyes sharp as ever, but I didn't stop. I kept walking, trying to keep my breathing steady. 

"Pascha!"

I heard my aunt's voice calling from behind.

My pace quickens. 

I reached the balcony just seconds before the door behind me opened again. Pascha's heavy voice rang out, echoing my name. 

"Bee! Belva!" 

I turned around briefly, seeing him standing in the doorway, his eyes piercing. But I didn't give him a chance to get closer. With one swift movement, I climbed onto the balcony railing, twisted my body outward, and jumped. 

The cold air touched my skin as I slid down. The wind whipped the hem of my dress, and gravity pulled me hard. But I had already calculated that.

I landed right in the back seat of Benito's convertible, my body hitting the padded seat with a heavy but satisfying thud. 

Ben was already in the driver's seat, his face pale. "You're insane," he muttered, though his hand was already pulling the gear lever quickly. 

I looked up, seeing the balcony above us. Pascha stood there, looking at me with eyes full of shock and anger. 

"Go!" I called out to Benito. 

The car's tyres squealed, leaving rubber tracks on the stone road before it sped out of the mansion's gates.

The sound of St. Sophia's church bells began to toll in the distance, singing the wedding song that would never be mine.