Cay woke shortly after his phone alarm buzzed—it was half past seven. Still drowsy, he glanced around the room and sensed something different. He couldn’t quite place it, but Carianna’s former bed no longer looked vacant.
He stepped quietly across the room, careful not to disturb anyone’s sleep. Most guests were as tired as he was after a full day in Rome. As he neared the bed, he could make out the silhouette: curled hair, a slender figure beneath the blanket, and long eyelashes that stood out starkly against her resting face.
“Carianna?” Cay whispered, thinking the Argentine girl had returned in the night.
The figure stirred.
“No,” came the reply, laced with a Russian accent and a sleep-heavy tone. “It’s Tanya.”
“Oh.” Cay paused awkwardly, then straightened up. “Hello.”
Later that morning, they sat in the kitchen with Tatiana and Daniel while Yoshi continued sleeping, as usual. Over cereal and bitter hostel coffee, Tanya reintroduced herself. She was from a small village in southern Russia, near the Mongolian border. She had come to Italy before the next term at Saint Petersburg University began.
When she mentioned she had no concrete plans for the day, Cay invited her to join him. She accepted with only the slightest trace of hesitation, one so subtle the others at the table didn’t notice. Judas once again had other plans and told them he wouldn’t be joining.
After Tanya had prepared herself, they set out for the Roman Forum. The Sunday sun was high and tourists were everywhere, though the two were glad to find that entrance was free on the first Sunday of each month. The Forum, once a bustling center of Roman political life, now stood weathered and still, its ruins holding stories only the wind could recall.
Their conversations drifted between ancient history, brief notes about their respective backgrounds, and places yet to visit. Beneath shaded archways and beside crumbled columns, they found common ground and growing ease with one another. Tanya spoke warmly about her homeland’s southern regions—softer in climate and temperament than Moscow. Cay spoke of his reasons for traveling across Europe, of seeking something undefined from each city he visited.
Later, they used their Forum tickets to enter the Colosseum and skipped the long queues. They both agreed that overcrowded attractions diluted the experience, echoing what Judas had said the day before. They stayed just long enough to soak in the atmosphere, then left as more tourists flooded in.
At the same café as before—Cay preferred familiarity—they ordered croissants and coffee. They continued their earlier conversations, then Cay, emboldened by the rapport they’d built, complimented her beauty. Tanya blushed. Her jade eyes, flecked with amber around the pupil, sparkled brighter in the midday light.
They parted with mutual appreciation for each other’s company, the enthusiasm between them still intact.837Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDY7f4kSo8I
Tanya Jin—mostly Russian, subtly Asian—studied Russian literature at the University of Saint Petersburg, one of Russia’s most respected institutions. She was the embodiment of grace, beauty, and intellect, the kind of woman foreigners imagined when they thought of Russian elegance.
She worked part-time as a model, though even she wasn’t sure if it was a job or a hobby. It paid just enough to sustain her student life. Her love of literature and her refined taste in music—she liked Arctic Monkeys and Guns N’ Roses, to Cay’s surprise—made her magnetic. The slight language barrier hardly mattered.
Cay felt a flicker of something long dormant—a craving, a hunger not for lust, but for presence. It was like a sword rediscovered, still sharp. He imagined gently tucking her auburn hair behind her ear, revealing more of the face he admired. Hair behind a woman’s ear—he’d always loved that. To him, it was intimacy without intrusion.
Her skin radiated quiet mystery. Her eyes—green with golden rings—stilled him. She didn’t stop him from knowing her, and that alone drew him closer.
He didn’t call it love. Not yet. Perhaps never. But something about her—her warmth, her silence, her presence—demanded attention. Perhaps she saw him as nothing more than a temporary companion in a foreign city, just as he wasn’t sure what he sought from her.
Cay rarely liked to guess at others' thoughts. He had a knack for reading people too well—sometimes to their discomfort. But Tanya confounded him. Her jade eyes dulled his usual perception, left him curious and off guard. And she didn’t shy away from his gaze.
He wanted to know more. And she, for now, seemed willing to let him.
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