Chapter 318: Destiny… Arrives, All The Same??

* To be fair, I did say we are in therapy season, eek

[KATYA]

For the four years since his separation from Yaroslav, Katya had strived to live his life despite the trolls. He had tried to learn how to live again.

It was the only option for him, really, given his situation. He didn’t have time to stay down and cry or nurse his wounds.

He had to live.

Had to survive.

And it had been hard. Very hard.

Now, four years later, he had finally learned to breathe without feeling guilty. To exist without fearing mockery from society. He let himself live, laugh, and... He let himself fall in love despite it all.

Despite the whispers about what it was like for him jumping from a powerful Moskowsky to a beloved senator. He had endured it all.

Only for the man he’d struggled to live for, to be the one to tear him down.

Gods, Katya’s heart ached.

He’d never felt like this since the day he’d learned Yaroslav was cheating on him with Milan nine years ago.

Funny how the pain was still the same. The familiarity with which his heart shattered again. The loud sound of his breaking heart was too much to bear.

He was tired.

Of crying.

Of surviving.

Of being brought down each time he tried to get out of his cocoon.

He’d thought life would be better now that he had Alek. Now that he loved Alek. Now that he was happy with his boyfriend.

But he’d never thought Alek would hurt him like that.

The miscarriage wasn’t just about Katya losing so much at the same time and at the hands of the people he trusted.

It was about being used and exposed while he thought he was worthy. It was about people looking at him. And deciding that he didn’t know what was best for his body, so they chose for him.

He had been a canvas for different cruel artists his entire marriage, and the one time he stepped out, he was dragged right back onto that feeling.

Into the loneliness that came with the life he’d been forced to live. And of course, his mind drifted to the conversation from moments earlier.

"So, this is about Sergei Moskowsky."

"What?"

"Many people told me you were sleeping with him, but I didn’t believe them. I chose to trust you, and now you’re cheating on me with him. How classic," Alek spat.

"So that’s why you went to the Bratva?" Katya asked, pretending the accusation didn’t sting.

"Coming from the man who’s fucking his ex-husband’s father, you sure have no moral standing," Alek said.

"Anyway, all Moskowskys are the same. They’ll use you and ditch you. I’ll be here for you in case you need a fallback plan," Alek laughed mockingly.

Then...

"What a pathetic omega," someone on the other end of the phone said.

"I know, right?" Alek laughed, then he hung up before Katya could let out another word.

Katya couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t stomach the pain anymore.

He needed relief.

So, he looked around Sergei’s bedroom. Checked the drawers. Everything that could be used to soothe anything.

He needed even just one pain med to make him feel a bit better because he didn’t have the strength to recall it all. To stay in the memories that were haunting him.

He needed the voices in his head to stop.

But the more he ransacked the bedroom, the more there was nothing to find.

Not even a painkiller.

So, he stepped out and into the other rooms. Hoping there was a medicine cabinet somewhere. Anywhere. Surely Sergei wasn’t immune to pain, right? The man probably fought more people than he saved. There had to be a contingency plan somewhere here.

Yet even after checking the house, there was nothing.

No painkiller.

No sleep meds.

Nothing.

It was way too clean.

Because he didn’t even see a first aid kit, and he could swear he had seen Sergei hurt a few times.

And in the mess Katya had made of the once perfect and neat penthouse, Katya sat on the floor tiredly, his head in his hands as he cried his heart out.

He didn’t want to believe Aleksandr.

He couldn’t believe Aleksandr.

But a part of him haunted him for the truth that was right there.

He had fallen in love with Sergei Moskowsky. He had loved the man who was so forbidden. He had embraced a kind of love that was supposed to never end well.

Sergei cared for him.

Sergei loved him, truly.

Sergei always gave him a choice.

And Katya... He’d chosen Sergei.

He knew it was the only thing his heart yearned for.

Yet after that phone call, no matter how much he loved Sergei Moskowsky, he couldn’t handle the pain that came with being branded a whore for the Moskowskys.

Sergei would never call him that.

But Yaroslav had thrown that word at his face back at the hospital on the day of his miscarriage.

And with Alek insinuating it nearly four years later, Katya didn’t know how to live anymore.

At least not around the Moskowskys.

And in his rage and heartbreak, Katya grabbed one of Sergei’s backpacks. Then he stuffed Sergei’s used and clean shirts in there. His sweaters and scarves.

Katya had thrown in whatever he thought he would need. And once he was sure he had what he needed, the crying omega left his phone on the table in the now trashed living room.

He couldn’t stay here.

He couldn’t... He couldn’t be in the same space as them anymore.

He needed to leave. Even if it hurt so bad to run from Sergei.

Because Alek and Yaroslav had called him the same name nearly four years apart.

Perhaps Katya didn’t have morals anymore, right?

Perhaps Katya Romanov didn’t deserve whatever the fuck everyone was doing for him.

He’d wanted to go back to work. To stay inside his lab and do what he loved the most. He knew Sergei was probably ready to give a press conference.

But Katya was tired.

Too tired.

And he didn’t have pills to make him forget.

So, he opted to leave.

Because leaving would... Make things better?

He was a Romanov after all, no? He had the money to survive, well, as long as Sergei Moskowsky didn’t change his mind about the terminated contract anyway.

At the same time, Katya trusted Sergei. Loved Sergei so much it hurt. He’d wanted to be around Sergei for a little longer.

But he couldn’t stomach the possibility of Sergei calling him a whore, too. That would ruin him. That would shatter him for eternity.

He couldn’t live in a world where Sergei thought the same of him like Alek and Yaroslav.

Taking a look at the penthouse one last time, Katya Romanov left.

He didn’t use the elevator to go down, no.

He went up.

To the helipad.

Sergei had always told him he had access to everything Moskowsky. And Katya knew it was probably a terrible idea to use Moskowsky resources to disappear.

But he needed space.

From everyone.

"I want to go home... To one of the old Romanov manors," Katya said to the pilot.

"Alright, Mr. Romanov," the man had not asked any more questions.

And when he got to his destination later that evening, Katya gave the pilot specific instructions.

"Tell him and them not to come for me. If any of them tries to, I’ll disappear for real. I’m a Romanov, I was trained for that since birth," Katya had said, holding onto the backpack with Sergei’s clothes so tightly.

And the pilot...

He just nodded before leaving.

"I... I’m... I’m not a whore," Katya mumbled to himself, crying and lying on the grass defeatedly.