"What stopped you?" Ivan asked, his voice low but edged with something sharp enough to cut.
Marcus let out a slow breath, his shoulders loosening as if he had been holding that question inside for years. "You," he said after a pause. "And your father. I was afraid… afraid that if your mother ever found out, she might choose him over me."
A faint line appeared on Ivan's forehead, not quite confusion, not quite disbelief. "But you said she loves you."
Marcus gave a short laugh, empty and brittle. He shook his head, eyes drifting for a moment as if replaying old memories. "Love doesn't mean certainty," he replied. "People don't even understand their own hearts. One moment they're sure, the next they hesitate. I couldn't gamble everything on something that fragile. If she changed her mind… I'd lose her completely."
Ivan didn't answer. He simply stared, his silence heavier than any argument.
Marcus turned away, stepping toward the sink. The faint hum of the lights mixed with the sound of running water as he twisted the tap open. He washed his hands slowly, deliberately, as though trying to steady himself. But his gaze lifted again, catching Ivan's reflection in the mirror.
"I didn't expect you to come today," Marcus said, quieter now.
"I didn't want to," Ivan replied, his tone flat, stripped of warmth.
Marcus pressed his lips together before letting out a small chuckle. He shut off the water, droplets clinging to his fingers. "Then why are you here?" he asked, glancing at Ivan through the mirror. "Because of her?" His expression shifted, something almost amused flickering in his eyes. "You need to let go, Ivan. Your father is gone. Holding onto him won't bring him back."
Ivan's gaze didn't waver.
Marcus continued, his voice taking on a casual, almost patronizing tone. "Start living your life. Find someone. Go out, enjoy yourself. Have a drink or two. Stop carrying the past like it's the only thing that defines you. Life doesn't stop for anyone… it moves on, whether you do or not."
Ivan tilted his head slightly, studying him with unsettling calm. "Then tell me something," he said quietly. "What should I do right now?"
Marcus finally turned around, leaning back against the counter, confidence settling easily onto his face. "Whatever you want," he said with a faint smirk. "Follow your instincts."
For a second, nothing moved.
The air between them felt tight, almost suffocating.
Ivan took a slow step forward. Then another.
His presence shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. The distance between them shrank, and with it, the room seemed smaller, quieter, heavier.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost gentle.
"It's telling me…" he murmured, eyes fixed on Marcus, unblinking.
A pause.
"…to kill you."
The words didn't sound loud. They didn't need to.
Marcus froze.
The smirk vanished instantly, as if it had been wiped away. His body stiffened, fingers curling slightly against the edge of the sink. For a moment, he didn't move, didn't even seem to breathe.
The silence stretched.
"What…?" Marcus finally said, his voice no longer steady. His eyes searched Ivan's face, as if trying to decide whether this was a joke, a threat, or something far worse.
"…What did you just say?"
Ivan didn't repeat himself.
He only stood there, watching.