Episode 73

The air in the Petrova apartment was thick with unspoken anxieties. Anya, though physically safe, was a ghost of her former self. The vibrant spark that had ignited stages across the city now flickered, shadowed by a profound weariness. Dmitri sat beside her, his hand a comforting weight on her arm, but even his presence couldn’t entirely dispel the chill that clung to her. Nickola, ever the pragmatist, busied himself with making tea, his movements a little too deliberate, a little too loud.

“He’s gone, Anya,” Dmitri said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “The man who… who did this. He won’t hurt anyone again.”

Anya’s eyes, once so bright and expressive, were distant. She traced the rim of her teacup, her gaze fixed on nothing. “Gone? But the *why*… it’s still here, Dmitri, isn’t it?” Her voice was a mere whisper, carrying the weight of her unspoken fears.