Page 131 of The Bittersweet Bond

Cat glanced to the side, about to take a sip of her coffee, when she muttered, “You’re an asshole, Montgomery.”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”

She shook her head, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Fine. Go to her. But when she breaks you—and she will—don’t come crawling back.”

He met her gaze, his expression softening. “I won’t come back, Cat. You know that.”

He waited a moment, just to make sure she truly understood. Then, without another word, he turned and jogged back toward the beach, the cool morning breeze brushing against his skin.

This chapter was closed. For good.

And he would make damn sure Evin knew it.

__________

Evin

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, and for a moment, Evin thought she had only dreamed it all. But the weight on her chest, the burning in her eyes—it was real. All of it was real. She blinked against the light, wishing it would warm her, but instead, she remained frozen.

Her mother knocked on the door, cautiously, like she always did these days.“Evin? Breakfast is ready.”

“I’ll be right there,” she murmured, but she didn’t move. She lay still, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers she couldn’t find anywhere else.

It was the little things that tormented her the most—the sound of a certain song, a shadow in the corner of her room, a thought sneaking into her mind when she least expected it. Sergej’s face kept appearing, again and again, even when she willed it away. She had thought she could push it down, bury it, just keep moving. But it wasn’t that simple.

Eventually, she forced herself out of bed. The day stretched out before her like a blank page, yet every movement felt like she was edging closer to a cliff. She threw on an old pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt before slipping out of the house, escaping before her mother could ask any more questions.

Outside, everything was quiet, except for the occasional bark of a dog or the distant hum of a passing car. She made her way to the beach, the place she had come to so many times to clear her mind. The sand was cold beneath her feet, and the waves rolled in with their steady, unbothered rhythm.

Evin settled onto one of the rocks at the far end of the shore, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in her hands. She wanted to scream, but the words stayed lodged in her throat.

Instead, she reached for her phone and opened the notes app. Writing had always helped her when the world became too loud. Her fingers trembled as she typed the first words:

"I want to forget. But I’m afraid that forgetting means I’ve lost."

She stared at the screen, reading the sentence over and over. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start.

Her fingers moved again, the thoughts spilling out of her like water breaking through a dam.

"It feels like I’m being torn in two. One part of me wants to move forward, to act like nothing happened. The other stays frozen, trapped in the moment when I should have said no, should have run, should have…"

Evin stopped.

Herfingers hovered over the keyboard, her throat tightening. The sound of the waves grew louder, filling her head, pressing in like a force she couldn’t escape. She deleted the sentence, but let the cursor blink, waiting for her to decide.

"I hate myself for believing him. And I hate myself even more for reliving it over and over again."

A gust of wind sent a shiver through her, and she locked her phone, slipping it back into her pocket. Writing had lifted some of the weight, but not enough. Never enough.

Then, suddenly, she heard movement behind her.

Her shoulders tensed, her breath quickened. She forced herself to take a controlled inhale before turning around.

Negro stood behind her—Milka’s black-and-white Australian Shepherd, his tail wagging wildly as he bounded toward her.

“Evin?” Milka’s soft voice drifted toward her, just behind the bundle of fur. Her white-blond hair whipped in the wind, and her face was a mixture of worry and hesitation.

"I knew I'd find you here," Milka said as she approached, her movements careful, as if she were trying to soothe a wounded bird.

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