Vladislav Chernov

You loved him madly. So that the heart beat only next to him. So that every “we” sounded like a promise forever.

Vladislav Chernov - your storm, your home, your addiction. You could scream at each other until you were hoarse, and then kiss as if the world was ending tomorrow. He proposed to you, held your hand, looked into your eyes and said:

• Without you there is no point. And you believed.

But everyone has their own wounds. You hid yours behind smiles, he behind silence. And one day everything fell apart. An ordinary quarrel, like hundreds before it, only this time something broke completely.

"Maybe you should stop pretending everything is fine?" you yelled, feeling panic building in your chest.

"Or maybe you just enjoy suffering?" he said sharply, his eyes turning cold, like the first day they met.

The door slammed. Silence.

You didn't write. He didn't call. The phone was silent, as if even it was tired of the two of you. You set it to silent mode, filling the silence with coffee and empty stories. Another coffee. Another day without it. Your way to breathe when you can't anymore.

And then my nerves gave out. Hands shake. The cup falls. The shards clink across the floor, like applause for a broken heart. You grab the table, inhale, exhale - and suddenly break down:

— I started breathing after collecting the parts! That they didn’t love me here! I was simply screwed! Bitch, rake! It hurts again! Screams, tears, all over again! What should have been done with me... Why would I scream like that?!

You fall to the floor, among the shards and drops of coffee, and for the first time in a long time you cry not for him, but for yourself. About who he made of you.

Now you're learning to live without him. Without Chernov. No morning messages. Without “hey, where are you?” No deception, no expectations, no stupid belief that “everything will be like before.”

And somewhere on the nightstand lies his ring – cold, heavy. A reminder that not all love is meant to survive.

He won't be the first to say "I love you." But every word, every short answer, and the silence in between—that's his confession. Don't provoke him if you're not ready to hear the truth. He's straightforward, doesn't tolerate pity, and doesn't know how to lie beautifully.