Immigrant girl

Chapter 37. Anya.

These past few days have been anything but the best of my life. It felt like the entire Universe was against me.

First, there was Alex's unexpected appearance at my house. Our chase. His loud knocks on the door. His confession. Every word he said, every letter, is now burned into my soul. After he left, I lay next to my front door for another hour, shaking with silent sobs.

Then, I had to endure Alex's engagement. It was everywhere, on every news channel, radio station, magazine, newspaper, and all over social media. I couldn't escape it. Of course, I saw the photos and videos from that evening. I saw how stunning Alex looked in his three-piece suit with his casually tousled wavy hair. I examined his perfect profile with a sick pleasure. I watched how tenderly he held Samantha by the waist. I saw their kiss, which adorned the covers of all the magazines and the headlines of Instagram news feeds.

I had a photo of our kiss, too. A small Polaroid taken on Alex's yacht. He was gently kissing my temple, and I felt like the happiest woman on the planet. I made two copies of the photo then; one I slipped into Alex's planner with a silly note on the back, and the other I kept for myself. The photo rested in the drawer of my bedside table. I looked at it every night before falling asleep.

Am I a crazy masochist?

Yeah, thats right. In a way, my suffering brought me pleasure. It made me feel alive.

Then, Caleb called me in for a shift on Monday, even though I had a legitimate day off. Nothing foreshadowed trouble until Sasha, the bartender working with me that day, asked me to take a couple of bottles to the VIP room. I couldn't refuse; it was part of the job. Entering the room where I used to work, I saw Mendes. Animalistic fear gripped me instantly, even though I knew he couldn't do anything to me right there. Memories of that nightmarish evening flooded my mind—when he grabbed me in an alley and tried to rape me, and when he failed, he tried to kidnap me.I tried not to show my fear, quickly stepping up to the bar and handing the bottles to Andrey, then hurriedly leaving the room. The moment I exited, I ran into Alex, who grabbed my arms and pierced me with his intense blue-eyed gaze. I noticed he was deeply troubled and had clearly rushed out of his office.

I recoiled from him and backed into Mendes, whose hands fell onto my shoulders, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I felt his breath on my neck. That disgusting smell of cigarettes again, the heat of his rough hands. I tore myself away with all my strength and ran down the stairs, only calming down once I reached the dressing room in our staff area.In short, I was utterly exhausted. My entire body ached from the grueling shift, and inside, I seethed at having only two days left to rest.

After that dreadful shift, Mark was there to meet me again. I didn't know where our interaction would lead; I just didn't want to push him away or be alone. I felt very comfortable with him; he didn't pressure me or insist on anything, not even trying to kiss me again. Mark treated me like a fragile vase, afraid to break me with an awkward move or word. I was immensely grateful to him.When I got into his car, he immediately looked at me attentively, and his beautiful smile faded from his equally beautiful face.

"Anya, did something happen?" Mark asked, sitting partially turned towards me, waiting for my response.

"No, why do you ask?" Of course, I wasn't going to tell him about Alex, Mendes, or the attempted rape and kidnapping. It was better to bury it all, to forget.

"I can sense how tense and scared you are." He seemed about to reach out to me but held back.