Gone is the time when words inspired our way,
Like Danko’s flame leading through disarray.
No shame in his courage, no lie in his prose,
No envy, no sloth to trample others’ woes.
Bitter words of sorrow, borne by hands not your own,
Are for those who toil, who shape life from stone.
For when night and day are consumed by your fire,
To craft, to create, to love and aspire,
To carve just a moment where the heart’s aflame,
Where the soul shines through eyes and the world feels the same.
Spring has arrived, and with it, a joy,
That burns through my heart like love’s envoy.
Farewell, but now I’ll say, “I forgive,”
For my love moves forward, learning to live.
In my life, words have been both weapon and shield, but with Konstantin, they became something far greater – a battlefield. Each exchange was a masterclass in precision and intent, where his unyielding determination collided with my equally steadfast resolve.
Every conversation with him was a duel of wills. He sought to breach the walls I had so meticulously built, to strip away the professional veneer I wore like armour. His words were carefully chosen, designed to provoke, to challenge, and to uncover the truths I held beneath my composed exterior. But I was no stranger to such games. I fortified my walls further, strengthened by professionalism, detachment, and an innate instinct to guard my independence.
Ours was no ordinary dynamic. It was a contest of fire and strength – a duel between the lion and the panther. Every encounter tested the limits of our control, pushing us to the brink of our endurance. Yet the ultimate question remained unanswered: whose resolve would break first? And at what cost? For in this game, the stakes were not merely ambition, but the fragile sanctity of unbroken hearts and lives.
THE CALL THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
The call came unexpectedly, its tone firm yet imbued with unmistakable purpose.
“Eugénie,” Konstantin began, his voice smooth and commanding, each word delivered with intention. “I shall be away for a few days. Upon my return, I wish for us to meet. Tell me – what cuisine do you prefer?”
There was no preamble, no courtesies – only the quiet assurance of a man accustomed to shaping outcomes. His audacity was striking, but I refused to be unbalanced. After a brief pause, I replied, “Russian, naturally. It is impossible to forget the comforts of home. But I would prefer to meet in the office. We can arrange the time now.”