“Roman?”
“Yes?”
“I have a confession to make.”
I kiss her shoulder. “Something bad?”
“Yeah. It’s . . . well, it’s a kind of a problem. A big one.”
“Spill it, Nina.” She’s silent for a few moments, and then makes my world tilt on its axis with six short words. “I’m in love with you, Roman.”
I close my eyes for a second and squeeze her tightly. It’s like everything around me stopped. “Then we share the same problem, malysh.”
―
Neva Altaj,
Painted Scars
