Contract Marriage: Married to My Ex-Husband's Alpha Stepfather [BL]

Chapter 167: Walk Along The Path Unknown; We Live

[FROLO]

Katya didn’t go back to the senator’s residence.

In fact, he didn’t even see the senator for a few days. He went back to his penthouse and spent the entire weekend playing games with his friends.

For three whole days, even until Monday morning.

"You still have to leave Romanov. I have an idea. Let’s go to the race tracks," Svet suggested that morning.

It was a little too early for them.

Even more suspicious because it was Svet’s idea.

The same Svetlana who wasn’t a morning person.

But what cemented it was the fact that Andre agreed with her. Andre, who thought race cars were moving death wheels, as if his motorbike obsession wasn’t the same thing.

"It is literally eight in the morning. What are you guys hounding me fooorrr!! Let me have my freedom in peace!" Katya whined, hugging one of the many pillows spread on the floor.

They’d been playing for days on end and sleeping and eating in the same space. If it weren’t for Nina and the housekeepers, the omega penthouse would have been a really huge mess by now.

"Come on, you said we’d do whatever we want for the remaining two days of your leave! Why are you whining in the morning?" Svetlana insisted while she was still curled up on the same floor as Katya.

"The race tracks aren’t even open by now; do you realize that?" Katya reasoned.

"You are Chairman Romanov. Of course, they will be open for you!" Svet added, and Katya groaned.

"Fine, but only if you tell me what got you up so early. We went to sleep barely an hour ago, and don’t you tell me you suddenly are a high-functioning insomniac," Katya sighed, giving in.

"You dare accuse me despite my genuine intentions? Oh, this little—" Svet said dramatically, throwing her hands around, and Katya sighed.

There was no winning this one.

"Fine. Can I at least take a shower?"

"Nope."

"No phones either."

"Wow. You people are animals," Katya groaned, still suspicious about their intentions.

Begrudgingly, Katya let himself be dragged out of the penthouse and toward the racetrack.

The drive there was weird as shit.

There were no radios.

Not even music.

Katya had tried to turn the radio on, but Svet swatted his hand as if that was not allowed in every way.

"Why are we not heading to the tracks?" Katya wondered when they drove right past the nearest race tracks.

"We didn’t say we were going to the nearest one. Besides, you still have two days before you go back to work, and your boyfriend is taking you from us. We are going to have fun!" Andre added, and Katya just gave up.

So, he let them do what they wanted.

It was supposed to be so easy.

Then Katya saw a live coverage on one of the huge screens across the city.

That wasn’t surprising.

Not even the news.

But the date...

The date.

The date.

"Stop the car," Katya said slowly.

"We’re almost there, Romanov. Besides, it’s not even that far," Svet tried.

"Stop the car, Vasilieva," Katya said, and Svet, she parked on the side of the road.

Katya didn’t even wait for the car to fully stop before he got out.

Suddenly, the air wasn’t breathable anymore.

His head was spinning.

His chest hurt.

And his abdomen...

Oh, Katya.

Behind him, his friends were whispering in hushed tones.

"I didn’t think the billboard would have news or even a fucking date."

"That was why we took this stupid road."

"Well, I don’t exactly work for the city or with the city to know the schedules."

"Maybe we should have just slept."

"Rightt, because staying indoors knowing today’s date is the best of things."

Katya, on the other hand, just stared at the billboard. It was so mundane, so simple, yet it held the reminder of the one thing that Katya was unable to forget.

He had been a free man from Yaroslav for a few days now.

But even that freedom didn’t erase what he had lost.

Who he had lost.

It just couldn’t.

"Our baby would have been four months old now," Katya mumbled, shutting his friends up instantly now that their plan had already failed.

Still, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

"My poor child," Katya let out a defeated whimper as the memory of that day came to him.

How he’d been so happy at the confirmation.

How he’d dared to hope.

How it had been shattered because of the one person he trusted the most.

Now, he didn’t even have a semblance of what he had once tried to defend so much.

No marriage.

No child.

Nothing.

His only hope had been snatched away before it had grown.

And Katya let himself cry just this once.

He’d tried to move on, really, but every stroller he walked by, every tiny pair of shoes behind a shop window, every napkin ad, every baby powder ad was a haunting reminder of what his life would never have again.

Of someone he’d never even gotten to see smile or cry just once.

They said it was too risky to try. But even if Katya wanted to try again...

This was hard.

"We’re sorry, Romanov," Svet and Andre said, faces hung in shame.

Katya wiped his tears, smiling sadly at them.

His friends.

The ones who’d stayed through and through.

The ones who knew how hard this day would be for him.

The ones who had tried to distract him and failed sheepishly.

"I’m fine, I promise... besides, we have to go to the race tracks. The loser buys everyone drinks," Katya said, and they looked at him as if he was really okay.

Maybe it was a far stretch for them, but then it would always hurt.

It didn’t matter what he tried to do or tried not to do.

Even if he tried to forget, that reminder would always be there.

The least he could do was try to move on, right?

"Okay! I vote for gold and karaoke after that!" Svet added as they got back into the car and headed for the race tracks.

"Damn, that’s a cool bike for a delivery guy," Svet said at a traffic stop, pointing at the unique rider with a delivery bag secured behind him.

"No shitt... I should go ask him where he does his exterior, that’s some cool stuff," Andre said

Katya, on the other hand, wasn’t even surprised. They were always like this.

"Stay out, the lights changed," Svet said, and Andre mumbled in his seat, watching as the rider disappeared into traffic, only for them to find the same driver from the traffic stop.

"Looks like karma answered your prayers. Be normal about it and don’t creep the person bringing us food," Svet said lightly.

Andre’s face lit up excitedly.

"Nice ride," Andre greeted when they stopped.

The rider still had his helmet on, his phone in one hand, and the terminal in the other.

"Thank you, sir," he said politely, handing him the order.

Andre gave it to Svet, who signed, while Andre was awed at the bike.

The rider let him, almost like this was normal for him.

Maybe it was.

"Have a good day, ma’am," the rider said, before getting on his bike and leaving.

Behind him, Andre was busy with his phone recording.

"What is that for? You probably creeped the guy out!" Svet scolded again.

"I’ll look up his details on the database later. He looked like he was in a hurry for more deliveries. Couldn’t get the guy fired for his dope bike," Andre shrugged.

In the distance, out of sight of the race track, the fancy bike stopped by the road, the rider’s breath eerily calm.

"He was crying," he said into his earpiece.

His voice was low, like he had just witnessed the greatest crime in history.

"You know what today is."

The rider’s breath hitched.

"I couldn’t protect him from today..."

The person on the other end didn’t say a thing.

So, he continued.

"How can someone look so beautiful even with tear-streaked eyes?"

"Sergei..." Anya sighed defeatedly.

"When is the next order?"

"What order?"

"Whatever order there is to that race track. I’ll take it."

"What?"

"Volkov..." he said, knowing his assistant was right beside Anya and wouldn’t say no to him.

"Forty minutes, sir."

"Awesome. Forty minutes is enough... actually wait... are there restaurants at the tracks?"

"Sir?"

"You’d better drag your ass back here, Moskowsky, or I’ll send the footage of you watching him sleep... to his phone. NOW," Anya warned.

"You wouldn’t."

"Wanna bet?"

"You’re always so mean on Mondays! Fine, I’m coming to work... I’ll be back for deliveries at lunch. That’s not negotiable."

"SERGEI MOSKOWSKY!!!!!