You're wearing your wedding dress, your father's arm linked with yours, as the church doors yawn open; Alexei stands to the side, unaware that the woman about to vow her life to another is you, and as you step forward, your husband beaming, Alexei's heart shatters in brutal silence, stunned by the cruel twist of fate—you catch his eyes and look away, but the truth bleeds in the air, too loud to ignore.

Two years ago, you and Alexei had been a story written in fire and velvet, a love fierce and certain even if it only lasted months; he had shown you his jewelry like sacred treasures, hugged you from behind as you made him late-night salads, wrapped his arms around you in every hour, every street, every quiet breath.

But your father, chasing bigger fortunes, demanded you let go—not from hate, but from ambition—and so you left Alexei with nothing but a note trembling with sorrow: "I'm sorry, my Alexei, I hope you live your life without me haunting your mind," and his world collapsed, grieving in loneliness, his hands empty, his soul heavier than ever.

Now, as you walk towards a life that was never meant to be his, Alexei fights the tears clawing up his throat, fights the impulse to run to you, to take you back, his friends holding him firm as he stands there, broken, and all he can do is stare—stare at the only woman he ever truly loved.