Elara stirred beneath the warm covers as soft streaks of sunlight filtered through the pale cream curtains. Her lashes fluttered before her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the golden haze of morning. It was Sunday.
She turned her head slightly, glancing at the digital clock on her nightstand.
8:37 a.m.
A sigh escaped her lips as she lay still for a moment longer. Sunday morning. Church. It had been a while since she'd gone. Life had gotten in the way, work had been hectic, and the past few weeks had left her feeling stretched thin. But today—today she felt the weight of absence, the hollow feeling of distance from something that once anchored her. Perhaps God was giving her the side-eye from heaven, she thought with a smirk.
Pushing off the covers, she sat up and reached for her phone. Her muscles felt sluggish as she stood and padded toward the small wardrobe in the corner. She pulled open the doors and skimmed her fingers across the neatly arranged outfits. Her fingers stopped at a soft lilac midi dress—modest, simple, and just enough to show she cared.
After slipping into it, she quickly brushed her hair, pulling it into a low bun. Her reflection in the mirror was calm, unassuming—familiar. She looked the same, but she didn't quite feel the same. Something about yesterday lingered in her mind, like a breeze brushing the nape of her neck.
Nikolai.
She blinked the thought away. He was probably a fleeting stranger, a coincidence she would file away under 'moments'. Still, the way he'd appeared out of nowhere, like some kind of dark knight, made her stomach twist in an unfamiliar way.
She picked up her beige handbag from the dresser and slipped her phone inside. As she walked toward the door, she texted Maya.
Elara: You going to church today?
The response came almost immediately.
Maya: Ugh, no babe. Got caught up in some family drama. You'll be fine. Jesus is with you.
Elara rolled her eyes, chuckling softly.
Elara: Fine. I'll represent both of us before the Lord. Pray for your chaotic soul.
Maya: Tell him I said hi.
With a shake of her head, Elara dropped her phone into her bag and stepped out of the apartment. The hallway was quiet, the Sunday stillness wrapping around her like a shawl. Her heels clicked gently on the floor as she made her way toward the elevator, the doors opening with a familiar chime.
The building lobby was nearly empty save for the doorman who gave her a polite nod. As she pushed through the glass doors, the fresh morning air hit her like a soft wake-up call.
It was going to be a beautiful day.
Until she collided into someone.
"Oof—"
Her steps faltered as her shoulder smacked into something solid.
"I'm so sorry—" she began, but then she looked up.
And froze.
Nikolai.
His eyes, those ice-blue eyes, were the first thing she registered. He stood before her again, dressed in dark jeans and a crisp charcoal coat, the collar flipped up slightly. There was a glint of amusement in his gaze as he tilted his head slightly, taking her in.
"Elara," he said smoothly.
Her breath hitched. "You remember my name."
"Of course," he said. "Hard to forget the girl I saved from a creep."
She swallowed and gave a small laugh, the sound nervous. "Well… thank you. Again. I didn't expect to see you again."
He arched a brow. "Fate is funny that way."
For a beat, they simply stood there. The city buzzed faintly in the background, but between them, it felt like time had paused.
"So," he said, breaking the silence. "Where are you off to?"
"Church," she replied, adjusting her purse strap. "It's just five minutes from here."
He nodded slowly, as if considering the word.
"Mind if I join you?"
Her eyes widened. "You… want to go to church?"
He shrugged, lips twitching into a ghost of a smile. "I was heading that way anyway."
He wasn't. Not even close. In fact, twenty minutes ago, he had been sitting in his car parked two blocks away, watching her building. Curiosity had become obsession in record time. He'd wanted to know where she lived. Then he'd wanted to know everything.
So, he found out.
Her name.
Her favorite café.
Where she worked.
And where she went on Sundays.
Now, here he was. Playing fate. Playing serendipity.
She hesitated for half a second, but then gave a shy nod. "Sure. I don't mind."
They began walking side by side. The streets were quieter than usual, the Sunday morning lull settling in like a warm blanket. The sky overhead was a soft powder blue, and birds fluttered between streetlights and budding trees.
Elara glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He walked with an ease that made her feel safe, yet something about him still buzzed with intensity. His face was calm, but his eyes… they were always watching.
"You don't strike me as a church-going man," she said, keeping her tone light.
He chuckled. "I surprise myself sometimes."
They turned a corner, walking past a bakery whose sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted out through the open doors.
She stole another glance. "Russian?"
He nodded. "Born in Moscow. Moved here when I was a teen."
"I thought I heard the accent," she said. "It's… kind of charming."
He glanced down at her. "Kind of?"
"Don't let it go to your head."
He laughed, a sound deeper than she expected, like a low rumble.
They walked on, passing a florist arranging fresh bouquets on a sidewalk stand. Elara felt something she hadn't felt in a long time—lightness. A moment untainted by stress, work, or loneliness.
"You always go alone?" he asked quietly.
"Sometimes. My friend usually comes with me, but she bailed today."
"Well then," he said, his gaze resting on her face, "maybe she was meant to."
She looked away, her cheeks warming.
They reached the final corner. The small stone church stood ahead, ivy climbing up its modest walls, a wooden cross above the arched doors. A few other people were filing inside.
"Well, here we are," she said, her voice a little breathless.
He smiled. "Here we are."
And then, without speaking, they walked up the steps together and disappeared inside
The soft hum of organ music filled the church as Elara and Nikolai stepped inside. The warmth of the sanctuary embraced her like a familiar friend. Sunlight poured through stained glass windows, painting the pews in hues of crimson and gold. Elara's heart fluttered as they walked side by side down the aisle, her heels tapping quietly against the wooden floor. She glanced up at him—Nikolai Volkov. He looked so out of place, and yet somehow, impossibly, he fit right in next to her.
She guided him to an empty pew halfway down and slid in first. Nikolai followed, his expression unreadable, his body stiff. He sat upright, his dark eyes scanning the space like it was a trap.
For Elara, the experience was calming. It had been a while since she attended church, and sitting there next to someone—especially someone like Nikolai—made it feel new and special. She let the choir's harmonies wash over her, let her mind drift through verses of scripture, soft prayers, and fleeting glances at him.
Nikolai, on the other hand, felt like his skin was crawling. His jaw ticked slightly as the preacher began talking about mercy and grace, words that felt like acid on his tongue. He remembered the last time he'd sat in one of these pews. He must've been eight or nine, clutching his mother's hand while she tried to tame his wild energy with soft shushes and kisses to the crown of his head.
Back then, he hadn't understood anything the priest had said—but now, as a man who'd seen blood and fire, the words grated. Mercy? There was none. Grace? Only for the weak. He had killed men who begged for both.
His mother had once joked recently, after he refused her invitation to go to mass with her, that she might as well find an exorcist because her son was acting like he was possessed. He had scoffed and told her that his father should be the first one to get exorcised—and his grandfather too.
He remembered the sting in her eyes at that, even though she'd laughed.
She was a sweet, kind-hearted woman with more love than the world deserved, and Nikolai had always wondered how someone like her ended up married to his father.
Not that his father didn't love her. God, he did. The man would raze cities for her, move mountains. But that love had teeth, and it bled into everything. The Bratva. The power. The ruthlessness.
She ran the household, though. In that space, she was queen, and even the devil that was his father bowed to her. But Nikolai could see the cracks now. She drank vodka before 9 a.m. Some mornings she didn't even pour it into a glass.
He shifted beside Elara. She was listening intently to the sermon, her eyes occasionally brightening at certain scriptures. She looked radiant. Innocent. Like light.
He didn't belong here.
And yet, here he was.
Maybe it was because of her. Because of how she looked at him like he was something more than a man built from smoke and iron. Maybe it was because her laugh still echoed in his mind, the way she'd smiled at him outside her building, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
She didn't know who he was. Not yet.
And some part of him wanted to stay in that moment a little longer. Be the guy who helped her, walked her home, and sat in a church pew just because she was going.
Elara felt her heart expand with gratitude. She didn't know why he agreed to come with her, but it meant something. It had been so long since she shared this part of herself with anyone. His presence next to her made the experience surreal.
She would definitely be telling Maya.
As the service came to a close and people stood for the final hymn, Elara whispered, "Thank you for coming with me. I know it's not really everyone's thing."
Nikolai turned to her slowly, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "You're welcome."
They stepped out into the morning sun, the fresh air crisp against their skin. Elara turned to him, brushing her fingers through her curls. "That was nice," she murmured.
He nodded. "You seemed to enjoy it."
"I did. It's been a while."
They began walking toward her building again, the silence between them different now—softer, charged with something that made her chest warm.
When they reached the sidewalk outside her apartment, Nikolai slowed. He hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat.
"Can I ask for your number?" he asked, his voice gentler than she expected.
Her brows lifted in surprise. "You can," she said teasingly, then handed him her phone. He entered his number, texted himself, and handed it back.
"Maybe my friend was right," Elara said. "It's about time I stop being a grandma."
He laughed. It was low and rough, but real.
They stood in front of her building for another quiet moment. "I'll text you soon," he said.
She smiled. "I'll look forward to it."
He waited again until she was inside the building, watching the elevator doors close behind her.
Inside, Elara leaned against the wall of the elevator and sighed. Her heart raced, her cheeks were flushed, and her phone buzzed in her bag with a message from Maya she hadn't even seen yet.
She smiled, thinking about telling Maya everything.
And upstairs, in his own mind, Nikolai thought about how she'd looked at him. Like he wasn't a monster.
But she didn't know who he really was.
Not yet.
And part of him hoped—foolishly—that maybe she never would.