"Forgive you? You stole everything that was dear to me and threw me into the abyss, where I've been suffering all this time…" His voice carries a dull rage and pain accumulated over the years. "I've been in total darkness, trying to get out of it on my own…" He steps half a step forward, and I feel the air between us thicken with his anger. "How could you do this to me?" His eyes flash with reproach and despair.
I try to respond; words rise to my throat, but he sharply cuts me off:
"No, don't! Be silent, like you did all these three years!" His voice rings, exposing vulnerability. "I don't believe a single word you say."
"Is there really nothing I can do to deserve your forgiveness?" I whisper, barely keeping my voice from breaking.
"I've been asking myself that since the moment I returned you to your apartment…" He turns away, as if he doesn't want me to see his pain. "But I still haven't found an answer."
I stand silently, clenching my fingers, feeling my heart slowly settle in my chest. Tears sting my eyes, but I don't cry. I just understand — I can do nothing to make him forgive me.
"Do you know why I bought this apartment?" Maxim asks again, his voice now quieter, almost sad.
"No, I have no idea. Maybe… to torture me with it?" I say the only thing that comes to mind. The words sound bitter, like poison.
"That's the wrong answer…" He looks me straight in the eyes, and in his gaze, there is an abyss of love, longing, and resentment. "I bought it because you are my world. And this apartment — it's the only thing I could get back at that time. There are so many memories… just being there, I close my eyes and imagine you next to me."
His hand slowly slides up from my waist, as if exploring every curve of my body, trying to remember every touch he once knew by heart. His fingers reach my cheek softly, almost weightlessly, touching it as if I am fragile porcelain. I freeze at that touch — time seems to stop. A hot wave runs through my skin, my breath catches, my heart skips a beat, then pounds twice as hard, echoing in my ears. In this moment, there is everything — thrill, anticipation, hope, and a deep fear for our future. His touch burns, but not with pain — with tenderness that turns everything inside me upside down.
"How you smile at me with the most beautiful smile in the world…" he continues, and his fingers begin to trace my lips softly. I close my eyes, allowing myself for a second to sink into this fleeting feeling, into the warmth of his touch.
"How we kiss…" he whispers almost to my lips, but in the next second, he lets me go and jumps off the roof parapet.
His touch is familiar, intimate — it carries so much tenderness and strength that my heart involuntarily stops in my chest. He holds me tightly, as if afraid to let go, as if I might vanish. Maxim lifts me lightly, almost imperceptibly — as if I were a feather in his hands. For a brief moment, I feel our breaths merge, his chest resting softly against mine — confident, warm, real. Then, with the same careful tenderness with which someone places a treasure in a box, he sets me down on the roof. His hands glide along my sides, slowing, as if unwilling to lose contact, and in this farewell touch, there is more than a thousand words.
"Tomorrow we're going to a place together," he announces, his voice businesslike, as if all tenderness suddenly disappears.
"You'll return to the apartment?" I ask cautiously, clinging to hope like a lifebuoy.
"No, not yet," his answer is short, but every word cuts into me like a knife. I feel even more upset, my insides tighten. "I'll pick you up at nine in the evening. So be ready by that time, understood?" He repeats, as if giving an order that leaves no choice.
"Yes, tomorrow at nine I will be fully ready," I repeat with a slight nod, though my voice betrays a tremor. "Where are we going?" I ask, not expecting an answer. As I thought, he remains silent.
"Go home, don't wait for me. We will meet tomorrow."
"And you? You won't jump?" Fear pierces my heart, and I look at him in panic.
"That was a long time ago. In the meantime, I've gotten used to living without you… No matter what it cost me. So no, I won't do that," he turns to me and looks me in the eyes. "Actually, I never intended to do that. Pushing you wasn't in my plans either, you could have known that."
"After three years apart, I don't recognize you…" I confess bitterly, "You seem like a stranger. I don't know what to expect from you, and it scares me."
"Don't worry, it won't last long," he answers with a slight, almost playful smile.
"What does that mean?" I frown, not understanding his hints.
But he only leans down, slowly, without extra movement, as if under the weight of his own fatigue, takes the bottle at his feet, and, turning away from me, starts finishing the alcohol. He does it silently, staring into the darkness, as if retreating into his inner world — quiet, deaf, walled off, through which I can no longer break. Max closes himself off, step by step moving away, even though physically he stays nearby. I stand helplessly, watching him shield himself from reality, from me — and from himself.
I realize there will be no more answers. That he goes — to a place I cannot reach. To that abyss I cannot understand or accept. He chose this path himself — loneliness, pain, and self-destruction.
No words, no explanations, not even a hint of what we had. Only this silence, thick and viscous like night, and a deaf wall of indifference. I feel the ground slip from under my feet, hope curls into a ball inside my chest, leaving only emptiness.
And, as he asked, I go home. I return to a home where my little daughter sleeps peacefully. The room is filled with soft silence, broken only by her steady, calm breathing. Entering the bedroom, I stop at the threshold, as if afraid to disturb this fragile moment of peace, and watch her for a long time. My soul fills with something warm, almost painful — in our little girl, I see his eyes and gaze. Just as deep, expressive, full of meaning. She looks at me as he looked at me three years ago — with that quiet but burning love, which held acceptance, pain, and hope at once.
Her eyes smile at me, shining with a special tenderness, and looking at me, she gazes with love — sincere, unconditional, the kind only a child can give. Yes, it is different from the love Maxim had then, because a man's love for a woman and a daughter's love for a mother are completely different feelings. But there is one thing that unites them — they both look at me with love. True. Alive. That leaves a mark.
Now, in his gaze, I see something completely different. There is a deep longing, as if he lost something infinitely precious. And loneliness — it screams from his eyes, even when he is silent. Sometimes anger flashes there, sudden, like lightning, and then hidden hatred toward me. It hurts. Incredibly hurts. But how strong these feelings are — I still cannot understand. I feel like I'm standing in front of him, like a closed door behind which a hurricane rages, but he doesn't let me in to change anything.
Our conversation on the roof… it was both a revelation and a verdict. He made me understand that he is not going to forgive me. Not now, not later. I don't know what I have to do for him to forgive me. I'm close to him again, so close I hear him breathe, but it cannot erase the time I was gone. My return is not a magic "erase the pain" button.
He needs time, at least a little, to realize: despite everything between us, I'm not going to leave him again. Only if he pushes me away. Only if he says, "Go away." I will stay. Here. While needed. While my presence does not bring him more pain. If he lets me know that I only hurt him — I will leave. But until that moment, I stay. With him. Close. With all my soul.
Each day fear grows stronger. Fear pierces me to the bone. And now, a new, burning, paralyzing fear is added — losing him. Completely. Forever. I start to fear that he might do something to himself. After our conversation on the roof, a sticky terror clings to me — it latches on like a shadow, like cold creeping under my skin. This fear follows me until evening. Until I see him again, and that evening changes everything in our relationship.