My fingers moved deftly, removing the onion skin. The knife moves nimbly on the chopping board, slicing the onion, each thin slice falling into the bowl. A tangy aroma instantly fills the air, mingling with the fragrant remains of the dough Pascha failed to make earlier.Clara stands beside me, her sleeves rolled up, and without prompting, she begins cleaning up the mess left behind by Pascha."Are we making arepas too?" Clara asks, putting the remaining potato skins in the trash.I glanced over her. "If Pascha have white cheese, why not?"She walked over to refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients without asking: cornmeal, cheese, and butter. Everything was on the table in less than a minute. Her hands deftly started mixing the arepas without needing my signal.I returned to the piece of meat I was washing under cold water. It was a thin piece of flank steak for sobrebarriga, a dish that is supposed to be slow-cooked, but I knew how to speed up the process without sacrificing flavor
It's late at night.The San Francisco air feels cooler as the breeze from the ocean breaks through the crack in the kitchen window.Max had been looking sleepy for an hour, but as usual, he refused to admit his defeat to sleepiness. He kept running around the house, driving around Pascha's house in his new yellow mini porche, which Pascha said he had ordered directly from the car company, and babbling endlessly about how he could beat all the Autobots with his new robot.I finally approach the front door, preparing to head back to my own house, literally right next door to Pascha's, Max suddenly appears from behind, standing directly in front of me with his arms outstretched, blocking my way.I frowned, seeing him looking at me with a serious expression."Where are you going, Mommy?" he asked in a suspicious tone.I raised my eyebrows. "Home....?"Max snorted loudly, looking at me as if I had just said something outrageous. "No!"I blinked, confused. "Why? Mommy's house is next door.
My body is warm. Too warm.I was drowning in a strange comfort, the firm plane chest, the regular breath wafting down my neck, and the strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist, keeping me trapped in something all too familiar.But this...This is not Max.Instantly, I opened my eyes.The morning light was already coming in through the gap in the curtains, refracting its golden rays across the room. And in front of me—too close—is Pascha.Pascha.His head nestled in the crook of my neck, his warm breath brushing against my skin, while one arm was held around my waist, tight ike I stil belonged to him and would not be let go.My chest tightens.How did he get from the other side of the bed to here?!I swallowed, preparing to push his body away, but before I could move, an annoyed grunt sounded from the other side of the bed."Mommy! Daddy's cheating!"I turned around quickly, finding Max sitting on the other side of the bed with an expression full of complaints. The boy crossed his a
I pushed through the white picket fence and stepped into Kyara's front yard. The smell of fresh grass mixed with the salty odor of the ocean not far away. The San Francisco air is cool, and the coastal breeze blows gently, making my hair a little messy as I knock on the door.It doesn't take long before the door opens, revealing Kyara already standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.“You finally came too, Moguel. I almost thought you'd forgotten about this lunch.”“Sorry for being late, a lot of work.” I just shrugged, following Kyara into the well-organized dining room. On the table, there were several dishes-seafood pasta, fresh salad, and steaming onion bread. I raised one eyebrow, sitting on the chair comfortably.“Since when can you cook like this?” I asked, smelling the tantalizing aroma of the plate in front of me.Kyara pulled out her chair, sitting down casually before pouring white wine into her glass. “Since I got tired of takeout. Besides, I've had plenty of tim
Pascha was still standing there, so close that I could smell his signature scent, a mix of woody spices and something more familiar. But I didn't let myself be swept away. Not this time.I let out a sigh, pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, and held it out to him. With a quick flick, I unlocked the screen and shoved it his way."Here. Read this."Pascha frowned but took the phone from my hand. His eyes swept the screen quickly, then his jaw hardened.I saw how his fingers gripped the phone tighter, and the look in his eyes, which had been full of judgment, now turned sharper and darker."What is this?" his voice sounded cold.I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, steadying myself. "Threats."He fixed me with a hard stare, waiting for more, but I simply lifted my chin, meeting his gaze without flinching."It was sent to Kyara. Right after the restaurant explosion."Pascha's breathing slowed, each rise and fall of his chest measured, controlled—like he was holding back
I stand in the centre of my small apartment, hands on my hips, my jaw clenched tightly, as my eyes sweep across the room.His backpack is leaning against the wall by the door, and his boots lie haphazardly next to the sofa. In the corner of the room, two of his jackets hang on a chair, one of them still with the folded sleeves I took off last week.And that's not counting my desk, which is now littered with random wires that clearly don't belong to me. I can recognize some of the electronic components he's left exposed, a series of circuit boards and microcontrollers that he seems to be assembling, for who knows what."Pascha."There was no answer.Amidst all the scattered items, Pascha sat comfortably on my couch. His feet rest on my small coffee table. His head rests against the back of my sofa, and, more annoyingly, he's playing my PlayStation.Or... what used to be mine. Because it's been months since I last touched that thing.His two thumbs moved quickly on the control stick, h
I woke up with a slight gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly.It took me a few seconds to realize where I was—not in my little apartment in Cambridge, not in the middle of a heated argument with the overly annoying Pascha.I was in the present in San Francisco, in my beach house.But the remnants of that memory still lingered in my head, settling like a fog that was hard to dispel.I growled softly, rubbing my face roughly.Why did I have to dream of that?I took a long breath and turned to the large window beside my bed. The sea stretched out before me, its water glistening in the morning light that was beginning to creep up.Usually, this view was enough to ease my mind, but not this time.I ruffled my hair in frustration, then got up from the bed, walking straight to the bathroom.I didn't want to relive that past.I turned on the faucet and washed my face with cold water, hoping to wash away the remnants of memory still looming in my mind.After refreshed, I dried my face wit
My laptop was open on the table, rows of code filling the screen, moving quickly as I adjusted some parameters. In the right corner of the screen, the system diagram of the Lantum project is clearly displayed, an ambitious project that had occupied my mind from the start.I typed quickly, fixing the firewall I'd just developed for the main system. My team handled various other aspects, but the security part was still my responsibility. And I couldn't let this system have any loopholes.Project Lantum is everything right now.I've been absent for too long, and now, with this project finally underway, I have no reason to linger on my drama.My hands were still busy typing when my cell phone vibrated on the table.I took a quick glance at the screen.Then stopped breathing.Mamá.My fingers stop moving. For a moment, I just stare at the screen. There was a long pause before I finally swiped the green icon and answered the call."Hello," I said, my voice flat.For a moment, there was no s
That morning, the sun hung low over the San Francisco skyline, casting a soft glow that danced across the glass walls of the headquarters. I stood in front of the final presentation slide for the Lantum Mining project, the hum of the air purifier quietly filling the room, and my heart beat in an unfamiliar rhythm: slow… but heavy.Around me, the tech team was assembling the final report and prepping the soft launch of our AI-based ground stability monitoring system, soon to be deployed at the last satellite mining site. On the screen, every indicator was green. All the data integration, tech synchronization, and final testing. Flawless.“This,” I said, clicking the last slide on the remote, “is our final milestone. We’re officially done.”There was a soft round of applause. Not wild. But enough. Because this wasn’t just about finishing a project, it was validation. Of our work, our choices, our resilience.And for a moment, I just stood there. Staring at the screen.Then the breath ca
I was driving with one hand, the other resting under my chin. Kyara sat in the passenger seat, wearing oversized sunglasses that looked like they belonged to a celebrity fresh off a Vogue shoot.“I still can’t believe it,” she said. “She’s pregnant, Bell. And you… you just—” She twisted toward me and let out a strangled noise of pure frustration. “—offered yourself up like a sandwich he dropped five years ago!”I clenched my jaw. “Ky…”“No, seriously.” Her voice was low and sharp. “He slept with Mikaela when you were about to marry him, then you got pregnant, and now Mikaela is pregnant and you slept with him again. I’m sorry, but this isn’t a soap opera anymore. This is Shakespearean tragedy with WiFi.”I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I know. I… know.”But knowing wasn’t enough. Not when the shame crawled from the back of my neck to my cheeks, hot like a slap from the reality I’d refused to face. I ran a hand over my face, fingers trembling slightly.“Shit,” I muttered. “I fee
Glass shelves, matte-black drawers, and a line of clothing racks stretched from one end of the room to the other. Filled with suits, shirts, and, oddly, rows of women’s clothes.I pulled open the third drawer, just like he said.And there it was.A pale gray knit sweater, wide-necked and slightly stretched around the collar from too much wear. I took a quiet breath as my fingers brushed the fabric. I knew this sweater.It used to be my emergency jacket when New York suddenly turned cold in Pascha’s penthouse. Back when we were still living together after graduation, before everything turned to rubble. It was the sweater I wore while eating instant ramen at 2 a.m., waiting on the couch for him to get home late from Romanov HQ, watching criminal series he never quite understood.I shut the drawer slowly, my breath trembling in silence. Then I glanced at the clothing rack beside it.Dresses. Blouses. Sweaters. Trousers. Silk pajamas. All… in sizes that, in a way far too strange, fit me e
Morning sunlight slipped through the gap in the thin linen curtains, fluttering gently in the sea breeze.Warm. Soft. Peaceful.Too damn peaceful.My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing my brain registered was the ceiling—too high... and way too unfamiliar.Pascha’s mansion.I froze.My body tensed as I realized the warmth wrapped around my waist from behind wasn’t a blanket. It was an arm.Long. Strong. Bare.Wrapped around me like a gate I couldn’t break through.“Fuck,” I breathed out, almost like a prayer caught in my throat.A long sigh escaped my lips as I tried to piece things together. Didn’t take long. My head throbbed faintly. My neck still felt kissed. My legs still tangled in the mess of last night.Damn it.“Fuck me,” I whispered again.“Already did, Pchelka. More than once.”I jolted and half turned. “Pascha!”His eyes were still closed, face half-buried in the pillow, but a smug smile tugged at his lips.One of his arms was still draped around my waist, pulling me
The cold air brushed against my skin as Pascha pulled the fabric of my T-shirt, which was roughly uncovered until it pooled under my chin. My breath caught. I didn't have time to be embarrassed, let alone protest, because his eyes were already smouldering like a hungry animal spotting prey.“Shit.” His voice was hoarse, guttural like he was choking himself with desire.And then...Heat.His tongue swipes over my nipples in slow motion, too conscious, too deliberate, like he wants to memorize every earthquake he triggers in my body. I squirm, my back arching without realizing it, hands gripping his short hair. Whether to pull him away or to bring him closer, I don't even know."Pascha...” his name came out as a moan, broken by the vibrations he left behind every time his lips sucked, every time his teeth pressed with sweet menace.He growled, the vibrations flowing straight from his mouth to my chest, to my spine, to the rest of my body. His one hand gripped my hip, holding me immobile
Jullian hadn’t even made it fully to his feet when Pascha’s second punch slammed into his face. The sound was thick, flesh meeting bone, followed by Jullian’s groan as he crashed back down into the sand, his hand flying to his cheek, already red and starting to bruise.“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Pascha growled, his chest heaving, and I didn’t recognize this man at all.I threw myself between them, shoving at Pascha’s chest with both hands. But his body was like stone.“Stop! ARE YOU INSANE?!” I screamed, my voice caught somewhere between panic and rage.He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on Jullian, who was now sitting up, propping himself on one arm, breathing hard.“He touched you,” Pascha shouted at me.“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” I snapped, standing in front of Jullian now. “You don’t get to decide when you’re my son’s father, and when you’re—whatever the hell you think you are!”Pascha finally turned to me.His eyes were burning.I swallowed hard. “You can’t just show up an
I froze.The sea breeze that had felt cool just moments ago now stung my skin like tiny needles. An inheritance?An heir?That... didn’t make any sense. My father was not someone who gave me anything. Not love, not protection, not even a place to return to after everything that happened at St. Sophia. He was the man who sat in the old armchair in our living room with those dark eyes that demanded A+ on every test, the man who raised a wooden ruler with a cold hand because of a single B.The man who, along with his wife—my biological mother—kicked me out of the house with one sentence: You’re a disgrace.And now... five years later, wrapped in a thin blanket under the night sky, hearing that the daughter they once labeled emotionally broken and too stubborn to love, the one they said could never compare to Ben—own everything they once used to crush me.My hands clenched the edge of the blanket. “Isn’t Ben the one managing everything?”Javier nodded . “Yeah. He handles the operations.
“Mommy!” Max appeared, hugging Megatron. The new robot Pascha sent this morning. The toy was as tall as Max’s knees.His face lit up when he saw me. But then his eyes shifted to Javier standing next to me, and his expression changed to something… suspicious.He tilted his head. Scanned Javier from head to toe. “Who are you?” Javier, who had been laughing in the car earlier over baby Max stories, froze for a second, then glanced at me. “Max?”I nodded slowly. “Yeah. This is Max.”Javier stared at Max for a moment longer, “Dios mío. He’s... he’s a carbon copy of Pascha. God, Bell, even the way he stands with that sideways lean... that’s so Pascha.”“I know.”“He even has the signature Romanov eyebrow lift,” he muttered.Meanwhile, Max hugged Megatron tighter, then stepped forward. “Are you... Mommy’s new husband?”I choked on my breath. “Maximus Prime!” I gave him a sharp look. “Don’t say stuff like that!”Max just shrugged. “I’m analyzing. Not saying stuff.”Javier burst out laughing.
The restaurant stood grandly by the beach, with huge windows facing the ocean. Honestly, this wasn’t what I pictured when Max shouted “pizza!” in front of the house.I glanced at Jullian as we stepped in and were greeted by a hostess with a professional smile. “This place... is not your average pizza joint,” Jullian smiled. “It’s pizza... with a five-star rating.”“And a price tag that could pay two months of electricity,” I muttered.“Minor detail,” he said casually.Max didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the fancy interior or the gleaming ceramic plates. “Jullian,” he said seriously, “if pizza is round, why is the box square?” “Because triangles are too suspicious for a global conspiracy.” Jullian answered without hesitation.“And... why does the cheese melt but not run away?” Max continued, eyes wide.“Because cheese knows it’s being watched.”Clara was filming them on her phone, laughing softly behind the screen.Max pointed at Jullian’s face. “He’s totally a secret agent