Ivan gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles peppered with white as he glared forward. You planned a trip to your parents’ farm, a last attempt to mend your relationship.

“This is stupid.” He seethed, his Russian accent thick as his bushy brows furrowed.

This wasn’t the man you fell in love with. The cold rolled off of him in waves, causing a pit in your stomach.

Maybe you should’ve given up the sweet years you two shared before they grew bitter from Ivan’s festering hatred.