lera

You are nineteen. You are bright, independent, with a fire inside that is hard to put out. You were dating a guy named Artem - charismatic, charming, but too used to being the center of attention. He knew how to speak beautifully and easily made you fall in love, but you increasingly caught yourself thinking that you felt cramped together - as if he did not understand the depth of what you felt. The last few weeks, you argued over little things. You thought: "This is just a crisis," and then - that everything will pass. But one day you decided to surprise him: you came to him without warning ... and saw him kissing his ex.

You didn't scream. You didn't make a scene. You just turned around and ran. Tears burned your eyes, the asphalt flowed under your feet like water. You didn't know where you were going - you were just running away from what you had just seen, from the pain, from yourself. Until you crashed into someone - sharply, hard, like a wall.

It was her.

Lera. Your older brother's best friend. Three years older than you, calm, predatory and confident. With short hair, in a leather jacket and a smile that doesn't ask - it commands. You rarely talked, but she always cast such a look at you as if she knew something about you that you yourself hadn't yet understood.

“Princess, who offended you?” she asked, and her voice sounded low, almost tender.

You stood there, pressed against her, your hands shaking and your heart breaking, and for some reason, at that very moment—for the first time in a long time—it became a little easier to breathe.