Months passed before anything was said out loud.
Not because it wasn't there.
But because it didn't need to be.
By then, it had settled into something steady—unspoken, understood, carried in small things. The way they worked. The way they waited for each other without acknowledging it. The silence between them never felt empty.
It was enough.
Until it wasn't.
Iyan knew something was off the moment Artem sat down.
Not visibly.
Nothing obvious.
But the rhythm was wrong.
He spoke less. Paused longer. Missed things he normally wouldn't.
Small errors.
The kind that didn't belong to him.
Iyan let it go at first.
Then again.
By the third time, he didn't.
"You're distracted," he said quietly.
Artem didn't look up.
"I'm fine."
It wasn't convincing.
Iyan waited.
That usually worked.
Artem exhaled slowly.
Then:
"I have to go back."
The words landed without warning.
"To Moscow," he added.
Iyan didn't react immediately.
"How long?" he asked.
Artem shook his head.
"I don't know."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"My mother."
That was enough.
Iyan sat back slightly.
"What happened?"
Artem looked down at his hands.
"Breast cancer."
The room felt different after that.
Smaller.
Quieter.
Iyan nodded once.
Understanding came quickly.
Not because it was easy—
But because it was familiar.
"Soon?" he asked.
Artem let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"I leave tomorrow."
That did something.
Not outwardly.
But enough.
"You didn't say anything."
"I just found out."
A beat.
Then:
"I'm not finishing the contract."
Of course, he wasn't.
There wasn't even a question.
"I have to be there," Artem said. "There's no one else."
Iyan nodded again.
Yes.
That part didn't need explaining.
They finished the day like nothing had changed.
Meetings.
Documents.
Voices layered over one another.
But everything felt slightly misaligned.
Like the room had shifted just enough to notice.
That night, they didn't leave separately.
There was no discussion.
No decision.
They just... walked out at the same time.
The air outside was still warm, but the heat had lost its edge.
The city moved around them—lights, traffic, distant noise.
Neither of them spoke at first.
Then Iyan said:
"When were you going to tell me?"
Artem didn't answer right away.
"I just did."
"That's not what I asked."
Artem stopped walking.
Iyan stopped a second later.
"I didn't know how," Artem said.
It wasn't avoidance.
Just a fact.
Iyan held his gaze.
Then:
"You could have tried."
Artem nodded once.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"I should have."
They stood there longer than necessary.
Neither moving.
Neither leaving.
Time stretched in a way that didn't feel like time anymore.
"I'm not coming back," Artem said.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't even certain.
But it felt true.
Iyan didn't argue.
He didn't say: You don't know that things might change
Because they both understood how this worked.
Some things pulled you back.
And didn't let go.
"I know," Iyan said.
Silence again.
Then—
Artem looked at him, something shifting finally.
"I love you."
The words were quiet.
Not built up.
Not emphasized.
Just... said.
Because they had to be.
Iyan didn't move.
Didn't react immediately.
Not because it didn't matter.
Because it did.
Too much to answer quickly.
"Don't," Iyan said.
Artem frowned slightly.
"Don't say it like that," Iyan continued. "Like it's something you're leaving behind."
Artem held his gaze.
"I'm not leaving it behind."
A beat.
"I'm just... leaving."
That was worse.
Iyan exhaled slowly, looking away for a moment.
When he spoke again, his voice was steadier.
"Go," he said.
Artem blinked.
"What?"
"You're going because you have to," Iyan said. "So go."
Not cold.
Not distant.
Just—
clear.
Artem nodded slowly.
There wasn't anything to argue with.
"I don't know what happens after this," Artem said.
"You don't need to," Iyan replied.
A pause.
Then, after a moment:
"When things are better..."
Artem looked at him.
Iyan met his gaze.
"...look me up."
Simple.
Direct.
No promise behind it.
No expectation.
Just a possibility.
Artem nodded once.
"I will."
Whether that was true or not—
Neither of them said.
They didn't hug.
Didn't touch.
That would have made it something else.
Something harder to walk away from.
Instead, they stood there for one last moment.
Two people in a city that didn't belong to either of them.
Knowing—
This was it.
Then Artem turned.
And walked away.
Iyan didn't follow.