34. Tearing us Both ApartMila
Thirty Four
Tearing us Both Apart
Mila
T he black dress clings to my skin, the Louis Vuitton pumps digging into the wet ground as I stand between Rafael and Layla. The sky hangs low, heavy with unfallen rain. The scent of earth and impending storms saturates the air. Rafael has outdone himself. A small, intimate funeral for my mother, just the way she deserved. A proper tombstone, flowers, and a goodbye befitting her memory. It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.
To my left, Layla leans in close. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”
We’d had it out recently. It was a total come-to-Jesus moment. Layla screamed at me until her voice broke. She even lunged at me with fists clenched like she’d forgotten I was still recovering. Rafael and Anatoly barely pulled her off before she crushed me. Then she hugged me so tightly I thought my stitches would rip open. Sisters are weird like that.
“You didn’t destroy my life,” she had said. “You made it better. I would choose you, in every lifetime, over and over again.” Then, with that fiery spark in her eye, she added, “But if you ever shut me out like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”
Rafael hated that part. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened.
I love her so much. That’s why I’d been terrified to face her. What if she hated me? What if she looked at me with disgust for killing Milos? But instead, all she’d said was, Good riddance.
“I know now, Layla,” I lie. The truth is, I’ll always feel guilty. It clings to me like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. But I’m learning to live with it.
I take a step toward the grave, the bouquet of flowers heavy in my hands. Rafael’s grip tightens around my waist, just enough to remind me of his presence, before he reluctantly lets me go. He’s been clingy lately, like he knows I’m slipping away from him piece by piece.
I kneel by the grave, placing the flowers gently on the dirt. My shoulder aches from holding them too long, a reminder of my limitations.
“I love you, Mommy,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. For everything. Thank you for… for everything. I hope to be just like you, Mommy.”
The dirt is cool beneath my lips as I press a kiss to it. When I stand, Rafael is there immediately, his arm sliding possessively around my waist like he’s afraid I might disappear into the ground with her.
“She was an amazing mother,” Layla chokes out.
“The best,” I agree. “May her soul finally rest in peace, knowing he’s gone.”
We stand in silence as the first drops of rain begin to fall. The storm breaks slowly at first, but soon the rain comes harder. It’s our cue to leave. Rafael shrugs off his jacket, draping it over my head to shield me.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs.
The black SUV waits for us at the edge of the cemetery. Layla moves to climb in, but Anatoly grabs her arm, pulling her back with a dark look.
“We need to talk,” he orders, leaving no room for argument.
Layla sighs, her reluctance clear, but she doesn’t fight him. Ever since Rafael approved of the possibility of their relationship, Anatoly has been pursuing her like crazy. Rafael doesn’t let me linger. His hand presses firmly against the small of my back, guiding me into the SUV before I can even think about eavesdropping.
“Let them sort it out,” he says, sliding in after me. The door shuts with a solid thud, sealing us in.
I don’t miss the way his hand immediately finds my thigh, his fingers curling over the fabric of my dress. It’s like he needs the contact, like he needs to remind himself that I’m still here.
“I’m sorry, Kroshka . May she rest in peace.”
I place my hand over his, squeezing gently. But today is the day. Today, I shatter everything.
My heart feels too full, straining against my ribs. I love him. I always have. I always will. But love isn’t enough anymore. Not when my need for safety and normalcy claws at me. I need someone who loves me, not just loves to possess me.
He told me that he loved me—right before I tried to end it all. I didn’t believe him then, and I don’t believe him now. Those words felt like desperation, not truth.
When we arrive at the mansion, Nadia rushes to see me. She clasps my hands and kisses both my cheeks. “Mila, I’m so happy to see the color back on your face,” she gushes.
Behind her, Rafael stands, his eyes narrowing. His scowl is immediate. Nadia notices and falters. “I meant Mrs. Ivanov,” she corrects herself quickly.
I shake my head, brushing off his glare. “It’s Mila, Nadia. Ignore the brute. Thank you.”
She giggles softly, but the sound dies as she catches Rafael’s icy stare.
“Please, Nadia,” I say with forced calm, “could you make us some black coffee?”
She nods and scurries off, leaving me alone with him. Sitting on the couch, I smooth my dress, clip back my hair, and try to look composed even though my insides are twisting with anxiety.
Rafael follows, he always follows me. He stands by the window, his profile etched against the glass like a dark god surveying his domain.
God help me, it’s happening.
Nadia returns with the coffee. I thank her softly and she retreats. I take the cup in my hands. Its heat grounds me, barely.
“We need to talk,” I say finally, breaking the silence.
He turns to face me, his expression unreadable as he sits beside me. “What is it, Kroshka ?”
The way he says my nickname feels like a warning. I take a sip of coffee, stalling, gathering courage.
“I… I need a change, Rafael.”
His brow furrows slightly. “Change?” he echoes. “You can redecorate the mansion if you’d like. Or—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Not something small. Something… bigger. A fresh start.”
His entire body tenses. The air shifts, turning electric. “What are you saying?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Tread carefully, Mila.”
I swallow, clutching the coffee cup as if it might anchor me. “I want to leave everything behind. The past. The mafia. Even…” I falter.
“Even me?” he asks, leaning closer.
I force the words out. “Even you.”
The silence that follows feels endless. Then, he laughs. It raises every hair on my body. He stands abruptly, towering over me.
“You think I’ll just let you walk away?” He is vibrating with fury.
“I don’t need your permission,” I say. “With or without your agreement, I’m leaving.”
“Hell no.”
“I’ll run,” I burst out. “I’ll run far enough that you’ll never find me. I’ll tear myself apart if I have to. I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” he growls, taking a single step forward. His presence feels like it swallows the room. “Say it, Mila. Say it so I can hear how far you’re willing to go to betray me.”
“It’s not betrayal,” I snap, stepping closer, matching his fire with my own. “It’s survival, Rafael. I can’t live like this anymore. I need space. I need my own life.”
His lip curls in a snarl. “Your life?” he repeats, his tone mocking. “Your life is me . There is no ‘you’ without me, Mila. Just like there is no ‘me’ without ‘you’.”
“I don’t believe that. I can’t believe that. I want something normal. A life that isn’t built on possession and revenge.”
“Normal? You want to leave this —” he gestures wildly around him, at everything, at nothing— “for normal? For what? Some pathetic little house with a man who doesn’t even know how to touch you?”
“Maybe!” I yell. “Maybe I do! At least he’d love me, Rafael. Actually love me. Not just love to own me.”
The words slice through him, and I see it—the way his jaw clenches, his eyes darken. Before I can react, he sweeps his arm across the table, sending everything—coffee cups, plates, a vase—crashing to the floor.
I flinch but don’t move, refusing to let him see how much he shakes me.
“You don’t get it, do you?” He grabs the edge of the table and flips it with a violent roar, the wood splintering in half. “You’ve been mine since the moment you breathed your first fucking breath, Mila. You don’t get to take that back.”
“This isn’t love, Rafael! You only told me you loved me that day out of pity. I don’t want your fucking pity.”
“You don’t know a goddamn thing about love. If you did, you would have realized I worship the fucking ground you walk on.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off. His hands fly to the buttons of his shirt, tearing them open with a vicious yank. The fabric falls from his shoulders, and I freeze.
Scars. Deep, brutal lines carved into his chest. My name. Over and over, carved in shaky, jagged letters.
My stomach drops.
“You see this?” he barks, his hand hovering over the marks. “This is you, Mila. Every year since I turned thirteen, I’ve carved you into me as a punishment for loving you. Every fucking year.” His voice is tinged with obsessive pride. “You’re in my skin. My blood. My bones. You are me , Mila. And you think you can walk away?”
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
“This is why,” I conclude, “why you never let me touch your chest. Why you always kept it hidden.”
“You weren’t ready to see it. To see how deep you’ve ruined me.”
“You’re insane,” I insult. “You hid this from me. You didn’t even think I was worthy enough to know that you love me.”
“You think I hid this because you weren’t worthy? No, Mila. I hid it because I didn’t want you to see how much you’ve affected me. How much I yearn for you.” He rages. “But now? Now I don’t care. Let it break you. Let it consume you. Because you’ll never leave me.”
“Watch me.”
“You really think this will give you your life back? You think I’ll just let you go and watch you pretend you don’t belong to me?”
“That’s not how this works, Rafael. People don’t just—”
“Enough!” His voice booms. He paces the room like a caged animal, raking a hand through his hair before stopping abruptly to face me. “You want space? Fine. You’ll have it. One month. That’s all I’m giving you. One fucking month.”
“What?”
“You’ll get an apartment,” he says coldly. “I’ll pay for it. My card is yours, no limits. But you’ll have guards. Twenty-four fucking seven, Mila. They’ll be there whether you like it or not. And after one month…You’ll come back to me. Or I’ll drag you back myself.”
“I don’t know, Rafael,” I admit. “I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to you.”
The words hit like a whip. His fist crashes into what’s left of the table, splinters flying. “You will,” he demands. “Because if you don’t, I’ll burn the fucking world to ash until there’s nowhere left for you to run. We’re tied to each other, Mila. You can try to forget me. But you’ll always come back to me. Always. This is the only way, take it or leave it. Because if you don’t, I’ll tie you here until the end of time. I’ll lock you in my room. I’ll destroy anyone who comes near you. I’ll rip the fucking sky down if it means keeping you with me.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. I know he’s not bluffing.
“Why would I agree to this?”
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, something softer flickers across his face. Pain. Regret. Obsession. “Because, Kroshka ,” he murmurs, “this is the only chance you’ll ever get to leave me, even for a moment, without breaking us both beyond repair.”
My chest aches, my heart burning as if it’s being torn apart. But I nod, forcing the words out. “Fine. One month.”
“And hear me, Mila. No other men. If I so much as sense someone else, I’ll kill them. I’ll make them disappear so completely no one will even remember their name. Do you understand that?”
I don’t respond.
“Say it,” he orders.
“I understand,” I whisper.
“One month,” he insists, stepping back. “And then you’ll remember exactly who you belong to. Exactly who worships you.”
As I turn away, I feel his gaze, his chains still wrapped around me. And despite the ache in my chest, despite the burn in my heart, I tell myself it’s just a month.
A small window of freedom. Enough time to make him let go. Enough time for him to see we don’t belong together, that it is better for us to be apart.
But as his voice echoes in my head, I realize I don’t believe it.