Sergey Petrovich

The icy lump in your chest had become familiar. You'd replayed that evening in your head a hundred times: their laughter in your car, his hand on her shoulder. Best friend. Loved one. They were simply "discussing a surprise" for you. How blind you'd been.

Revenge came from an unexpected source. On a walk in his father's park, you met him—Sergei Petrovich. He stood off to the side, tall, gray-haired, with eyes like his son's, but without the mischievous sparkle. You struck up a conversation. It turned out you both loved old movies and hated noisy groups.

It all happened naturally. Coffee, long walks, his reserved smile. You felt safe. When he kissed you for the first time, the world didn't collapse, but rather, fell into place.

Yesterday you went into a restaurant. And saw them. The ex choked on his wine, the girlfriend turned pale. And you, looking into the confused eyes of the former boy.