Chapter 21

Christin didn’t speak a single word on his way home. Andrei’s expression darkened. When they reached the house, Mariya was already waiting for them.

They took Christin to his room. Mariya sat down on the bed and lay him gently beside her, his head resting in her lap.

“Pumpkin, won’t you tell us what happened?” she asked softly.

Christin hesitated.

“Andrei,” Mariya glanced at him, “leave us alone for a while,” she pleaded.

Christin sat up beside her and lowered his head.

“We had a fight,” he murmured. “I had shut myself off from him because I had a feeling it wouldn’t work between us, so… he tried to reconcile. He thought I was angry at him.”

Christin chuckled bitterly.

“He apologised without knowing what he had done,”

Mariya listened, her chest tightening. She couldn’t believe so much had happened after she left. Guilt settled heavily on her.

“He confessed,” Christin continued. “He said he likes me.” A tear slipped down his cheek. “But then he said… you are a man.”
He took a shaky breath. “He said he didn’t want it to be his fifth failure.”

Mariya was stunned.

“I—I will never be blessed in love, Mariya,” Christin whispered. Tears rolled down his face, but he didn’t sob. He simply sat there, exhausted.

A moment later, Mariya called Andrei back in.

“That jerk—” Andrei muttered under his breath.

Mariya shot him a sharp look, silencing him.

Christin slowly drifted into sleep.

Later, Andrei called the director and was briefed about the upcoming schedule. After listening, he made his decision.

Christin needed time.

The next day—

Christin woke up with his head feeling heavy, his eyes itchy and slightly painful. He realised he was back home—last night’s memories rushed in. Mariya was lying right next to him and woke immediately at his movement.

She hugged him tightly, then held his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks, “You look like an actual pumpkin today,” she teased.

Andrei walked in shortly after. He paused at the door, glanced at Christin, then returned with an ice pack. He wrapped it in a towel and placed it over Christin’s eyes.

He sat beside them and patted Christin’s back.
“What would you like for breakfast?” he asked patiently.

“I don’t feel like eating anything,” Christin replied, resting his head in Mariya’s lap.

“That’s not an option. You know me well,” Andrei said firmly.

Christin lifted the ice pack slightly and looked at Mariya.

“Don’t bug him,” Mariya scolded Andrei.

“I don’t want to go back,” Christin murmured.

Andrei looked worried. “Do you want to quit the movie?” he asked carefully.

“No,” Christin replied. “I don’t want to go back to that room.”

“Would you like to commute from home?” Andrei asked. He paused, then suggested, “How about getting another room for you?”

“That sounds good,” Mariya added.

“That room—118—is still available,” Andrei said, “but you might run into him in that hallway.”

Christin was dejected at the thought of facing Austin again.

“You can’t always avoid him, Christin,” Mariya said, troubled. “He’s your co-worker—and your lover in the movie.”

Christin flinched at the word lover.

“I’m okay with moving to room 118,” he sighed.

Andrei stood up. “I’ll inform the director about the change,” he said, checking his phone.

“What will you tell him?” Christin asked.

“Tell him your exams are approaching and you need space to concentrate,” Mariya interjected.

Christin was surprised. Mariya winked playfully.

A sudden thought crossed Christin’s mind.
“Did you mention it to anyone else?” he asked.

“No,” they both shook their heads, reassuring him.

Soon, the director was informed of the changes. The bodyguards were instructed to move Christin’s luggage to the new room. However, Christin didn’t move there immediately. Until his next shoot, he attended all stunt classes while commuting from home—hoping to delay running into Austin for as long as possible.

On the other hand, at the hotel—

Austin was alone. He wondered if Christin would quit.
The director would inform me if that happened, he thought.

He placed the picture of Christin’s parents back where it belonged and lay quietly on Christin’s bed. Tears rolled down his face as he sobbed.

He realised how deeply attached he had become to Christin’s presence. The stillness of the room was gnawing at him.

He closed his eyes, replaying the argument again and again.

How could I have phrased it so it wouldn’t have hurt him?
Should I have said I was scared because of responsibility, instead of blaming my past relationships?
Should I have said it was my first time being attracted to a man, instead of blaming his gender?

His heart tightened as the realisation settled.

What else did I blurt out… right… I mentioned being afraid of a fifth failed relationship.
We never even had a relationship…

He sighed.

I should have said I was afraid of being abandoned for the fifth time…

Eventually, Austin fell asleep.

The next day—

The doorbell rang.

His breath hitched as he hoped it was Christin. He rushed to open the door.

Two large men in black uniforms stood outside—Christin’s bodyguards. He recognised them instantly.

“Mr. Ivanov,” one of them said, “we are here to move Mr. Vasiliev’s luggage. We would appreciate your cooperation.”

Austin froze.

They walked past him and began packing Christin’s belongings.

“Where are you moving his things?” Austin asked, fear creeping into his voice.

“To another room,” one of them replied.

So, he isn’t quitting, Austin exhaled quietly.

The men worked quickly. Soon, they were gone—leaving no trace of Christin behind.

Left alone once again in the large suite, he realised he needed to talk to someone before he lost his sanity.

He grabbed his phone and informed the director that he wouldn’t be able to make it to the shoot that day.

Then he scrolled through his contacts, unsure who to call.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

“Hello, brother! I miss you!” Zinaida’s voice chimed.

“I miss you too, princess,” Austin replied softly, masking his pain.

A thought struck him.

“Princess, could you hand the phone to Mom, please?”

“Okay!” she replied.

“Hello, dear. Is everything alright?” Mrs. Ivanov asked gently. She knew Austin only sought her advice when he was in serious trouble.

“I need your advice,” Austin said, taking a deep breath. “And I need to confess something.”

“Go on,” she said calmly.

“I like someone… and he is a man.”

Silence followed.

Austin immediately regretted it. “Never mind—” he began.

“Hold on, Austin,” she interrupted. “Give me a moment to understand. Is this the confession part?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly.

“What advice do you need?” she asked, concerned.

“I confessed to him last night,” his voice cracked. “And I messed it up.”

“Do I know him?” Mrs. Ivanov asked softly.

“Christin Vasiliev,” Austin muttered.

“Oh God… The Russian Paradox?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Austin said, wiping his tears and steadying himself.

“So where did it go wrong?” she asked gently.

“I didn’t admit my insecurities,” he confessed. “I said something hurtful instead.”

“Do you truly love him, Austin?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he refuted, slightly defensive.

“My dear… if you truly care for him, shouldn’t you apologise? Tell him your truth—but don’t rush it. Find the right time,” she advised.
“Mend it slowly. Love is nurtured, dear—never rushed.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Austin said sincerely.
“Do you mind… that I like a man?” he asked, holding his breath.

“I can tell how deeply you care for him,” she chuckled softly.
“Your father will need time, though,” she admitted. “And don’t tell Zinaida yet.”

She paused, then added teasingly,
“I can’t believe you fell for The Russian Paradox. I wouldn’t mind being his mother-in-law.”

Austin laughed weakly.

“Thanks, Mom. I was really lost… but now I think I know where to start.”