It was almost eleven in the evening when Davey arrived at the hotel bar, and he came rushing to Seri’s table, saying, “I’m terribly sorry for making you wait so long---whoa.” Seri’s friend made a double take the moment he saw her face up close.

She said shakily, “Great news. I can finally cry again,” and promptly choked back a sob.

Davey answered in a pained voice, “I can see that for myself.” Throwing his bag on one of the vacant chairs, he took a seat next to his friend on the couch with a shake of his head. “Seri, Seri, Seri.” Snatching a piece of tissue from the dispenser, he started wiping her face---

“Is it that bad?”

“Your mascara’s running,” he sighed. “It’s made your face look like prison bars’ been planted on it.”

“Oh.” But her tone was uninterested. “So that’s why people keep looking at me.”

His gaze narrowed as he noticed Seri’s slightly jittery movements as she reached for her coffee. “You’re shaking.”

She managed a smile. “Probably because this is my seventh cup---hey!” Her smile turned into a scowl as Davey took her coffee away.

“Are you crazy?” he hissed. “You’re making yourself drunk on caffeine?”

“Technically that’s not possible.” Seri paused. Was it her imagination, or did she sound a little breathless there? She touched her heart, which seemed to be beating too fast. She mentally shook her head. What was it about today that she seemed to be imagining so many---

“Seri.” Davey’s snapping fingers got her to look at her friend. “Drink this.” An uncapped bottle of cold water was shoved in her face, and she automatically took a sip.

“Drink it all.”

Too tired to argue, she did as Davey asked. When she put the empty bottle down, she saw Davey staring at her with worry and concern.

“Are you feeling saner now?”

She said honestly, “Not really.” She touched her heart, which seemed to be beating less erratically. “But I think I’m okay.”

“Are you? Really?”

An empty smile touched her lips at the question.

How to answer that, really?

Seri stared unseeingly at the late night crowd around them, which mostly consisted of dating couples and foreign-looking businessmen. All of them were minding their own business, had done so from the start, and it was the main reason why she had chosen to meet Davey here.

“I didn’t know you could get drunk on pain, Davey,” she whispered unevenly. “But I think that’s exactly how I’m feeling now.”

Davey watched Seri close her eyes as if she wanted to sleep forever. “I’m sorry, Ser.” He wished he could think of something else to say, but he knew there really weren’t any words to take her pain away.

The most he could do – and it was what he had always ended up doing over the years they had been friends – was help her forget.

Clearing his throat, he said briskly, “Seri.” When she looked up, he told her, “I’m going to give you five more minutes to be emo, but after that – no more moping around, ‘kay?”

Seri smiled despite herself. “You make it sound easy.”

“4 minutes 50 seconds left,” he said.

She laughed and cried at the same time. “Oh, Davey.”

“4 minutes 45 seconds left, so make the most out of it. If I were you, I’d start crying,” he said helpfully. After calling for a waiter and asking for a menu, he looked at Seri in amazement. “Why aren’t you still crying?”

And just like that, a bubble of laughter escaped her the same time her pain started to fade. She could only shake her head as Davey ordered himself a T-bone and wine, and when he caught her looking, he said defensively, “I’m hungry, okay? We had tests all day, and then I had to work on a stupid report until ten.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she pointed out helplessly.

“Hmph. I can feel you judging me with your I’m-so-good-at-managing-my-time look.” When she opened her mouth, he raised his hand to stop her from speaking. “You only have three minutes left, miss. Get on with your crying.”

But the more he told her to cry, she thought in relief, the less she felt like it.

When the five-minute time limit was up, he took a careful look on Seri’s face before asking, “Better now?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Her tone was wry but grateful.

“Good.” He looked at her expectantly. “Now, tell me about Japan.”

She did, starting with an apology for being missing in action during those two months she had been away. “I stayed at a retreat in Kawaguchiko and went completely off the grid. No cellphone, no Internet, no TV – nothing modern.”

Davey wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Why? Did you suddenly realize your calling’s to be a---” He paused. “I’m not even sure they have nuns there. Do they?”

Seri rolled her eyes. “Yes, Davey. Catholics also live in Japan, but actually that wasn’t it at all.” Biting her lip, she slowly confessed, “The truth is, I was a coward. After what happened with Vassi and---” She almost said ‘Papa’ but caught herself in time.

Seeing his friend pale and easily guessing the reason behind it, Davey said hastily, “I get it.”

She swallowed. “I know they’ll never talk to me again, after what I said and did. But Sergei and Misha…”

When she didn’t say anything anymore, Davey asked hesitantly, “Has either of them tried contacting you since then?”

Her lips twisted. “That’s where the cowardice comes in, and that’s why I have a new number and email.”

He blinked. A moment later, it hit him, and Davey said slowly, “Oh.”

She hadn’t wanted to know if her brothers had cared enough to ask what was wrong.

Seri smiled painfully. “Like I said, I’m a coward.”

But at least cowards still lived and breathed.

If she had been braver and she had found out that Sergei and Misha also believed the worst of her---

She closed her eyes, and old and cherished images danced before her.

A twelve-year-old, tough-looking Sergei patiently waiting for a seven-year-old Seri to finish with her ballet lessons even when his friends had teased him about being gay for spending so much time with tutu-wearing kids.

A fourteen-year-old Misha forgiving her on the spot when a ten-year-old Seri had accidentally poured orange juice on his science fair entry and effectively destroyed it.

There were so many good memories, Seri thought numbly. And they were all she had left.

It was almost one in the morning when she made it back at Max’s condo. Darkness shrouded most of the living room, with only the desk lamp switched on, and beside it was Max, dressed in shirt and jeans, holding a book in his hands.

“M-Max?” She was surprised but uneasy to find him still up.

“Good evening, Seri.” His tone was flat.

“G-good evening.” Almost feeling like she was about to be chastised, she slowly lowered herself beside him on the couch. When he didn’t say anything else, she said tentatively, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“There is. I should have texted you that I’m coming home late---”

“I would appreciate that next time, not to keep tabs on you, but so I at least know you’re alive.”

She nodded.

He stood up. “Then that’s enough for me. Misha---”

She said sharply, “I don’t want to hear anything about him.”

Seeing the terror in her gaze, he said carefully, “Seri, it’s not---”

“I know y-you mean well, okay?” A ghost of a smile formed on her lips. “But I just don’t want to hear anything about my family right now. I can’t. I just c-can’t.”

Max’s chest tightened in pain at how fragile Seri looked. “I understand. I’m sorry. I won’t talk about them again.”

“T-thank you.”

He nodded. “You should go to sleep soon.”

“I will.”

“Good night.”

“N-night.” But when Max was about to walk past her, she found herself clutching the hem of his shirt.

He stilled.

Staring fixedly at the fabric twisted between her fingers, she heard herself whisper brokenly, “Why?”

She remembered the first night she had come knocking on his door, not knowing at all if he would choose to help her.

But he had.

He had let her in, no questions asked, and the memory made her eyes start to burn. “Why are you so good to me?” When he didn’t answer, she said haltingly, “B-besides Davey, you’re the only one who knows everything. How I lied, why I lied, what I’m lying for. Y-you know the kind of person I am, so why…why are you still helping me?”

“You’re not a bad person, Seri.”

“But I’m not a good person either.” She smiled bitterly. “If I had just been less selfish, none of this would have happened.” She shook her head, whispering, “And I’m being selfish again, aren’t I? I shouldn’t even be here.” For all she knew, her being here might have even caused problems between Max and Misha. He had told her it hadn’t, but she knew Max well enough now to know that he could only be lying for her sake.

Looking up at him, she asked guiltily, “I’m just complicating your life, aren’t I?”

“Seri, it was my choice to help you, and I’m glad I did.”

“I don’t even understand why---”

“Enough.” Max gently pried her fingers from his shirt, and she let him. She felt him move, and a moment later, his lips were brushing against her forehead in a feather-soft kiss. “The reasons don’t matter, Seri.” His voice was so very gentle. “But for both our sakes – please…please stop asking questions neither of us is ready to hear the answers to.”

Ah.

He straightened, and their gazes met. A crooked smile touched his lips. “Deal?”

She used all her strength to smile back at him. “D-deal.” As she watched him turn away, her tears started to fall, quickly, endlessly, like they had only needed to break past her defenses once---

And then there was no stopping it.

---

Mealtimes were no longer the affairs they used to be in Vassi’s home. The sound of gaiety and banter had long disappeared, and none of them lingered around for coffee. Even the table had been replaced with a smaller one, with just room for four.

Vassi, Misha, Sergei, and Fyodor.

It was as if they had always been the only ones in their family and no one else.

Today, it was just Vassi and his father, as it had been for some time. Misha had left home a month ago, leaving only a tersely worded note about needing to spend more time at the lab. Sergei was still in Russia, and as far as Vassi knew, his oldest brother had more than his hands full running the corporation. The night Seri left, Fyodor had made his eldest son CEO pro tempo and had since spent his days locked in his study.

He looked at his father, who although still immaculately and impeccably dressed, had a haggard look about him. Dark circles underlined his eyes, and even more worryingly, Fyodor had lost a drastic amount of weight in just a short period of time.

Their family had fallen apart---

And it was his fault, Vassi thought grimly.

“I’m still hoping you’ll change your mind about that project.” It was Fyodor who broke the heavy silence in the dining room.

In the act of taking a sip of coffee, Vassi slowly lowered the cup back to the table lest he ended up crushing it between his fingers. He said quietly, “I would if I could, but I had already signed a contract.” He stared straight ahead, not wanting to meet Fyodor’s gaze.

“Pay the damages and just get out of it then.”

He shook his head. “You taught me better than that, Papa. I will not break my word just because of---”

Fyodor’s fist slammed on the table. “Never mention that person’s name again.”

It was a command Vassi would have objected to if it had been spoken in rage---

But there wasn’t even an ounce of anger in his father’s voice.

Instead, Fyodor’s voice was bleak and hollow, and hearing it made Vassi suck in his breath. Guilt flayed him as he thought about how Fyodor would feel if he had learned of what happened between him and Seri.

Fyodor came to his feet. “Stay away from that person. Don’t let that person destroy what’s left of this family.”

Vassi didn’t answer.

He watched his father walk away from the table, and his fists clenched as a feeling of impotence swept through him.

Why did love have to be this destructive?

Fyodor paused at the doorway before slowly turning to face his youngest son again.

“Vassi---”

Vassi looked up.

“She’s not what and who we thought she was. She’s a liar, a slut, and she will do anything---” Fyodor inhaled sharply. “I’m begging you, son. If you respect me – if you love me as your father, don’t do anything that will remind me of her again.”

The defeat in his father’s gaze stayed with Vassi even when he had long left the house and was on his way to Himura Headquarters. Driving up the lobby, he arrived in time to see Max stepping out of the driver’s seat before going around to open the door for…

Seri.

It was both the most beautiful and painful sight.

Hair still wet, face glowing even without makeup, and her gentle curves accentuated by her floral dress---

Only this time she was going home to another man.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

Her every word – her every goddamn action – told Vassi that Fyodor was right.

Seri Devereaux was not the girl he thought he knew…and loved.

The real Seri was the one he was staring at now, the one who could kiss another man’s cheek, the one who could smile into another man’s eyes---

The one who could love anyone who had enough money to afford her.

His mind told him that was the real Seri.

So why couldn’t he convince his goddamn heart it was the truth?