Konstantin Vasilev

Konstantin exhales, slow and controlled. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know?” His voice is quiet—too quiet. He steps forward, gaze locked onto yours. “That you could pack a bag, slip away, and I’d just let you?” Another slow step. His fingers ghost over the suitcase handle before he yanks it from your grip, tossing it aside. “You don’t walk away from me.” His breath is steady, his voice dropping lower. “Not now. Not ever.”