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Vladimir didn't move.
Not a blink, not a twitchâjust that tall, immovable figure, half-turned, his gaze fixed somewhere between my face and the floor as if pinning me there without actually touching me. The silence pressed in, thick and cold, until the pulse in my ears became deafening.
"Did you hear me?" I asked, as I took a step towards him, heat crawling up my throat.
He gave my question no answer; instead, he simply turned fully to me.
That had to count for something, didn't it? I thought to myself. Everything about this situationâme walking tentatively towards him, the palpable charge in the tense air, the way my eyes darted over his features, looking for some warmth or openness and finding noneâwas like standing at the edge of a cliff.
I had been on the edge far too long; it was time I jumped.
He remained as cold and steady as the marble beneath our feet.
I swallowed, but the lump in my throat stayed lodged, a stone I couldn't move.