3 weeks later
I stared at the piano.
Ayla was sitting there, just like always. Her hair was down, flowing in beautiful soft waves at her back. Her eyes were closed, a small smile on her lips as she hummed and played the piano. For me. For us.
I smiled too. She was so beautiful. My Angel.
Ayla slowly glanced up, and her captivating green eyes met mine. She blew me a kiss, and I reached to grab it. She laughed, and I smiled again.
Suddenly the laughter stopped. Ayla stared down, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
No. Don’t cry, I wanted to say. I reached forward, and just like that, my Ayla disappeared.
I closed my eyes tightly, my fingers tightening around the bottle of alcohol. My head spun, and the heartache never left me. I was drunk, like every other night.
I wanted to forget. But then I felt guilty and ashamed. I couldn’t forget.
Even though she was gone, Ayla never left me. Even when I was too drunk to remember my name, I never forgot Ayla. She was always there. I could feel her. Sometimes I saw her, too.
It had been five weeks since Alberto took Ayla away from me. Five weeks of looking for my Angel like a madman. But she was nowhere to be found.
I just wanted to touch her. Hold her. Kiss her.
I opened my eyes again and stared at the piano. The bench was empty. My Angel wasn’t there. It hurt. It hurt so much that I couldn’t breathe sometimes.
She was gone. And I was alone. All alone.
I craved her. I craved the peace only she could give. I craved her love.
But my Angel was gone. And without her, I was lost.
A broken, empty shell.
Ayla once said I was her peace. But she was mine, too. She was the light to my darkness.
But the light was gone, and only darkness surrounded me. I was used to the darkness, but now it only suffocated me. It only left me broken.
Standing up, I stumbled toward the piano. I touched the keys and thought about Ayla being there right now.
I can’t live without you, Angel. I can’t.
***
Viktor
2 weeks later
I opened the door to the piano room and sucked in a harsh breath at the sight that beheld me. It was the same sight as every night since Ayla had been gone, but it still shocked me to the core.
Alessio laid on the floor next to the piano, his body curled up in a ball.
I rubbed a hand over my mouth and face, trying to hold in the emotions.
I had never seen Alessio so broken. So disconnected from the world. So lost.
Walking forward, I knelt down and wrapped an arm under his arms, pulling him up. He stumbled, his eyes closed. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s get you in bed,” I muttered as his weight fell heavily on me.
I dragged him to his room and pushed him on the bed. Alessio didn’t wake. Of course he didn’t. He drank himself into oblivion.
After removing his jacket, I removed his shoes and threw them on the floor. Sweat broke out on my forehead from the effort of dragging Alessio and taking care of him.
When I was done, I pulled the comforter over the body. His eyebrows drew together in tension, and he mumbled something under his breath.
Moving closer, my heart stuttered when I heard what he was saying. I rubbed my chest, trying to get rid of the ache there.
“Angel,” he whispered.
I sighed and kneaded the back of my neck, rolling my shoulder, getting rid of the rigid muscles. What a fucking mess.
Alessio was the strongest man I knew, the most ruthless, yet here he was…broken over the woman he so desperately loved.
I didn’t blame him, though.
It was impossible not to love Ayla. She brought light into the darkness of our world. She was the light.
I turned away from Alessio but stopped when I saw my father standing at the doorway. He stared at Alessio and then moved his eyes to me.
“I’ve done this so many times,” he muttered. I cocked my head to the side, waiting for him to elaborate.
“For Lyov. When he lost Maria, he was exactly like this, and just like you, I had to take care of him. I had to help him pick up the pieces. But the problem is there are too many pieces. Lyov is still a broken man—” He paused, pointing at Alessio before continuing. “And now Alessio.”
I looked back at the bed, and I saw Alessio struggling, as if he was fighting in his sleep. Nightmares plagued his sleep every night.
“That’s why Lyov warned him. Don’t fall in love. Don’t let yourself get weak. That was exactly the reason why. I had been through it. Lyov had been through it, and all he wanted to do was save Alessio from the same suffering.”
“We are going to find Ayla,” I shot back, refusing to believe anything else.
He nodded. “I hope you do. For all our sakes. She needs to be saved, and Alessio needs her.”
He turned to walk away but then stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he left me with words I didn’t want to hear.
“Don’t make the same mistake we did.”
With that, he left. And I sank down on the bed.
My eyes caught the photo frame on the night stand. I took it in my hand and looked into the face of Ayla. She was laughing, her eyes shining with so much love.
Rubbing my thumb over her cheek, I looked back at Alessio and then glanced down at her face again.
“Sometimes, I wish you’d never hid under his bed,” I whispered. “And we never knew you.”
My father was too late to warn me.
Because I had already made the same mistake.