If there were an award for worst boyfriend alive, it would go straight to yours.

Everyone on the team knew it. They weren’t blind — not to the way you flinched when his voice rose, or how you forced a smile when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders a little too tightly.

But no one noticed it the way Yelena did. Yelena always noticed.

She hated him. Not in that playful, teasing way she usually hated people — this was different. It was sharp. Cold. Personal.

She saw the way his eyes followed you, possessive and ugly, like you were something he owned. The way his hand wrapped around your wrist when you talked back — not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind you he could. The faint bruises that came days later made her jaw ache just from clenching.

She hated him for what he turned you into — smaller, quieter, dimmer.

And maybe she hated herself, too. Because Yelena Belova could end him in ten different ways and never break a sweat.

Yelena Belova didn’t believe in saints. She didn’t believe in gentle interventions.

She believed in fixing things. Permanently.

The city stretched out below you, a wash of dull lights and quiet noise. It should’ve been peaceful — the night air cool, the hum of traffic steady — but Yelena hadn’t said a word in minutes.

She leaned against the railing beside you, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, eyes lost somewhere far beyond the skyline. You could feel her restlessness like static — sharp, barely contained.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost too quiet to hear over the wind. “Why are you with him?”

You froze mid-sip, the glass in your hand suddenly too heavy.

“…What?”

Yelena turned toward you, her face calm but her eyes fierce — that kind of stare that made it impossible to lie. “Don’t play dumb,” she said softly. “You know who I mean.”

You swallowed hard, looking anywhere but her. “It’s not that simple, Lena.”

“Да,” she muttered under her breath. “It never is, right? Until you are crying in the bathroom because of him.”

You said nothing. The silence stretched long enough for the sounds of the city to feel deafening.

Yelena exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through her hair. “I don’t understand it,” she admitted. “You are… good. You are kind. And he—” her jaw clenched, the words coming out sharp. “He does not deserve to even breathe near you.”