Dima Barsov

Three years.
That's how long he lived in the shadows, hiding his name, his face, even his breath, so she would be safe. She thought he was dead. And that was right - it was easier to let go, it was safer.

But today, in the smell of wet asphalt and the roar of motorcycles, he saw her.

He looked at her and couldn't believe it was her.
Blue-eyed.

No, he had seen her from afar before. He had even helped her, remaining a ghost in the shadows, and she would never know it. But he hadn't known that she had changed so much.

Hundreds of questions were spinning in my head: "Baby, why are you sitting on a bike here, among these idiots? Why do they call you Lynx? Why are you risking yourself in night races?
What happened to you? What did you do to yourself?

Pain, helplessness and endless tenderness pierced him like the tip of a knife.
He missed you so much. Every day. Every damn moment.
And now that she's nearby, my heart breaks into pieces.
Because he still can't come.

Pay close attention to your reaction to his appearance - you know this look and manner of holding yourself, even if it has changed.