CHAPTER Forty lene fanaa (n.) destruction of self for love Wila Ran prRPrED DOWN THE car window, blurring my view of remote Russia as Albert drove us to our destination. Snow capped the pine trees, outlined the horizon, and covered the ground. The winter wonderland melted and turned to mud in front of my eyes. My mind returned to an hour before, when Ronan slipped my arms into a mysterious yellow faux fur coat. I hadn’t said a word as he zipped it up before sliding my feet into a new pair of ankle boots. I hadn’t realized how dirty and worn my others were until then. He rose to his full height, pulled my hair out from beneath my coat, and said, “Poydem.” Let’s go. Outside, I turned to give the house one last look and saw the menacing stone fortress in a different light. It was where Yulia’s eccentricity dwelled. Where Polina’s shouts and home-cooked meals could be found. Where rumpled black sheets lay undisturbed. Where doors, mirrors, and hearts were broken. And where sparks were made... I turned to head to the car but stilled when Yulia appeared in the open doorway. We never acknowledged she’d taken care of me in the shower yesterday. The moment could have never happened, but I’d always remember it did. Her permanent severe expression didn’t falter as she shut the door. I continued my trek to the car, unable to glance at the kennel where I’d returned Khaos this morning, but I knew he was sitting outside watching me. I’d break down if I had to say goodbye to him. I wished I could take