NOVA
Every season, every single day of my life, had been a battle. Struggle after struggle clawed at me, trying to crush me under its weight.
And still, I didn't give up.
Because I had one reason to keep going. One reason to drag myself through every storm, every sleepless night, every failure.
My mother.
She was my anchor. My strength. My home.
But now… she was gone.
The moment those words reached me—"She's gone"—my world cracked. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. How was I supposed to live now? How was I supposed to face this world when the only person who made it worth facing had been ripped from me?
The house was full of people—relatives, neighbors, distant family friends I hadn't seen in years. They came and went, their voices a blur, their faces shadows I didn't want to recognize. None of them mattered. Their condolences, their touches, their empty words—none of it mattered.
Every color had been drained from my life.
I moved through the funeral like a ghost, speaking when spoken to, nodding when people pressed my hands, thanking them for their pity when my throat wanted to scream. I gave my speech, though my voice cracked, my words trembled. Inside, I wanted to break apart, to cry until the world ended. But I couldn't. My tears were locked, my grief clawing inward like it wanted to consume me whole.
And then—
As if the day wasn't already cruel enough.
He came.
Julius Ruvanov.
Of all the people in the world, why him? Why here? Why today?
I couldn't stop myself. The sadness, the anger, the exhaustion—it all exploded as I went straight to him, trembling with every raw emotion.
"How dare you show up at my mother's funeral!" My voice cracked, sharp enough to draw stares. "Who asked you to come here?"
He stood there, calm, composed as always, his tailored suit an insult to the darkness suffocating me.
"Don't take this the wrong way," he said evenly, "I just stopped here to see."
"To see what!?" My voice rose, loud enough that people nearby turned. "To see how miserable I've become? Well, you've seen it now. Are you happy?"
His gaze didn't flicker, not even once. "I was nearby. That's why I came. My motive wasn't what you're accusing me of."
"Your motive?" My chest heaved, my throat raw. "If it wasn't your motive, then why are you even here? Just leave. Leave, Julius. You're making this day worse than it already is. Just seeing you makes me sick."
My eyes burned. The tears I'd held back all day threatened to fall, and I hated it. Not here. Not in front of him. He couldn't see me this weak.
Not Julius.
"Are you done?" he asked softly, almost mockingly calm.
"Just leave," I whispered hoarsely, pointing toward the door. My finger trembled, but my glare did not. "If you have even the slightest respect for me—or for her—you'll leave."
For the first time, something flickered across his face. Not guilt. Not sorrow. Just… stillness. A pause in his usual rhythm. Then, finally, he nodded.
"Okay, Nova. Calm down. I'll leave."
And just like that, he turned his back on me, walking away with the same steady stride he always carried. No hesitation, no shame. As if he hadn't just shattered me all over again.
I stood there, fists clenched, my body trembling as he disappeared from sight.
God definitely didn't love me.
I had tried, for so long, to find light in every dark corner. To seek out something good even when life threw the worst at me. But after meeting him, after Julius Ruvanov walked into my life, it felt like everything good had been poisoned.
And maybe… maybe this was exactly what he meant when he told me I'd be living in hell.
His hell.
And I had no escape.