It was just after 8PM when Nova and Andrei said their goodbyes to the Volkov mansion. The sun had dipped behind the hills, painting the sky in bruised purples and deep navy blue. The outdoor lamps lining the estate's drive buzzed to life as crickets began their nightly chorus.
"Dinner was great," Nova said, stretching her arms and exhaling contentedly as she pulled Andrei's jacket tighter around his shoulders.
Natalia stepped forward, elegant even in her silk house robe, and held out a worn but well-kept recipe book.
"Here," she said.
Nova took it with wide eyes. "No way. You're actually letting me borrow the sacred book?"
Natalia raised an eyebrow. "It's not sacred. It's just... annotated to perfection."
Nova flipped through the pages reverently. The corners were curled, a few smudged with sauce and flour fingerprints, notes in neat cursive written along the margins.
"I wanna surprise Mom," Nova said, hugging the book to her chest. "She's been having cravings lately—yesterday she nearly cried over a grilled cheese sandwich. This'll make her happy."
Natalia gave a rare smile. "Tell her to add more cinnamon to the apple tart. She never puts enough."
---
With Andrei fast asleep in his car seat, his head lolling to one side and a faint snore escaping his lips, Nova pulled out of the estate. The winding road from the mansion was quiet, just the occasional deer flickering between the trees. The city lights glittered distantly like a fallen galaxy.
Rather than taking the usual route back to the villa, Nova veered right onto a shortcut—a side road dimly lit, with cracked asphalt and leaning street signs. She figured it would save her ten minutes. Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel as she hummed a soft tune.
Until—
Thump.
The car jolted.
She slammed on the brakes. "What the hell—?"
Her heart leapt into her throat.
She fumbled with her seatbelt, shoving the door open and rushing out. Her boots crunched against gravel as she rounded the hood—and froze.
Someone was lying on the side of the road.
"Shit."
Nova ran over.
"Are you okay?" she called out, breath catching in her throat.
The figure groaned, slowly pushing himself upright. His jeans were dusty, his palms scraped, but nothing looked broken. Next to him was a rolled-up paper tube and a scattered pouch of sketching pencils.
Nova crouched down. "I didn't hit you that hard, right? I mean—obviously I hit you, but... please tell me you're not dying."
The guy looked up.
Familiar brown eyes blinked at her beneath slightly messy hair.
"Andrew?" she said.
He rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "Uh. Hi."
Nova blinked. "I can't believe I just hit the barista."
He grimaced. "I think I'll live."
Nova offered him a hand. "Come on. You're walking like a dying deer. Let me drive you home."
Andrew hesitated. "It's fine. I'm okay. Really."
"You're limping and I literally hit you with a car. I owe you a ride."
"I don't want to be a bother—"
Nova folded her arms. "If you don't get in the car, I'm going to follow you in first gear all the way to wherever you live. Slowly. With the windows down. Singing loudly."
He blinked.
"I'm not joking."
Andrew sighed in defeat. "Fine."
---
The ride was quiet on his end. Andrew sat stiffly, his bag clutched to his chest, while Nova fiddled with the music until she found a playlist she liked. She hummed the first few bars of a pop song before breaking into full-out singing.
"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard—"
Andrew let out a tiny laugh.
She caught it. "Oh, so you do have a sense of humor."
He shook his head, amused. "You're something else."
"You have no idea."
They drove through the outer district of the city where the buildings became older, smaller, and less polished. Flickering signs buzzed above late-night shops and corner bakeries. The streetlights were farther apart.
Andrew pointed. "It's just up there. The red building."
Nova pulled up to the curb and looked up. It was a simple apartment complex—aged bricks, peeling balconies, and a rusty mailbox grid near the front door. Not dangerous, just... modest.
"You live here?" she asked gently.
He looked embarrassed. "Yeah. It's not much, but I manage."
Nova didn't respond immediately. Then she nodded slowly. "It's got character."
He raised an eyebrow.
She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow. Because clearly, you make the best cappuccino in the city."
Andrew gave her a small smile. "Thanks for the ride... and for not running me over twice."
"Anytime."
He stepped out of the car and made his way to the door. Nova waited until he got inside, watching as he disappeared through the entrance.
Then she sighed.
The gap between their worlds was glaring.
She was a Volkov. Spoiled, protected, and raised in villas with marble floors. He was a student with sketchbooks instead of swords. But somehow, tonight felt real. Comfortable. Honest.
She wouldn't mind having a friend like him.
Hell, it was better than the witchy heiresses and vodka-soaked trust fund kids she usually had to smile at.
Nova shifted the car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot and into the night.
And for the first time in a while, she felt like she was heading somewhere she actually wanted to go.
Nova pulled up to Nikolai's villa just as the dashboard clock blinked 9PM. The moon hung high in the ink-dark sky, casting a silver sheen over the sleek, modern structure of the villa. Warm lights glowed from inside, pouring softly through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The gentle bubbling of the front fountain greeted her, along with the sweet scent of jasmine from Elara's carefully tended flower beds.
She parked the car neatly in the circular driveway and stepped out, her boots making a soft crunch on the gravel. As soon as she opened the backseat door, she was met with the quiet, steady breathing of her younger brother. Andrei was sprawled in his car seat, utterly knocked out, his cheeks flushed with sleep and a faint trail of drool at the corner of his mouth.
"Oh my God," she muttered, trying not to groan as she reached in. "Why do you weigh double when you're asleep?"
Unbuckling the safety straps, she carefully lifted him into her arms. He was heavier than he looked—pure deadweight in the most literal sense. Nova huffed, nudging the car door shut with her foot before staggering toward the villa entrance.
The door was unlocked, as it always was when Nikolai and Elara were home. The warmth from inside hit her immediately, along with the soft sounds of a movie playing in the background. She stepped into the spacious living room and found her parents exactly where she expected them to be.
Elara was curled up on one side of the couch, her feet resting comfortably on Nikolai's lap. One hand cradled her baby bump while the other lazily toyed with a strand of her loose hair. Nikolai was half-watching the screen, half-scrolling through something on his phone. Domestic bliss, Volkov edition.
"A little help here," Nova said, struggling to keep Andrei from slipping in her arms.
Both heads turned toward her.
"Welcome back," Elara said with a soft smile.
Nikolai stood immediately and walked over, effortlessly scooping Andrei from her arms. The boy didn't stir, simply nestled deeper against his father's chest. Nova flexed her fingers, relieved of the weight.
"I swear he gains five kilos when he falls asleep," she muttered.
"You're just weak," Nikolai replied dryly, already heading up the stairs to Andrei's room.
Nova dropped onto the other end of the couch with a sigh. Elara nudged a bowl of popcorn toward her.
"Thanks," Nova said, grabbing a handful. "So, I kinda hit someone with my car today."
Elara blinked. "Come again?"
"Not like, hard-hard. Just… light impact. Barely a bump."
Elara raised an eyebrow. "Nova."
"He's fine," Nova insisted. "No bleeding, no broken bones. Just fell over a bit. It was dark and I took the shortcut, and there he was."
"Should I be calling a lawyer?"
"No need. I apologized. He stood up. We talked." Nova paused. "And he was kinda cute, in that shy, awkward barista sort of way."
Elara gave her daughter a look. "Barista?"
Nova nodded, leaning back. "Yep. He works at this little café. I met him this morning, actually—well, earlier in the day. He served me a cappuccino. His name is Andrew."
"Andrew," Elara repeated.
Nova smirked. "Yeah. Which is funny, right? Andrew. Andrei. I literally hit the other version of our little chaos goblin."
Elara chuckled. "So you met him at a café, and then hit him with your car. That's one way to make a connection."
"He's also studying to become an interior designer," Nova added, more seriously this time. "Like you. He told me he really admires you—said you're his role model. That he wants to design like you do, make spaces that tell stories."
Elara's face softened. "That's sweet."
"I thought so too. He's not like the people I usually deal with. No weird flexing, no fake compliments. Just… quiet, sincere." Nova stretched her legs and sighed. "Honestly, it wouldn't be bad to have a friend outside the usual heiress nightmare club."
Elara smirked. "You mean the ones who wear sunglasses indoors and call their parents by their first names?"
"Exactly!" Nova laughed. "I'm tired of them. It's like everything is a competition or an aesthetic. I want something… different."
"Well, different sometimes starts with accidental vehicular manslaughter," Elara teased.
Nova groaned and threw a pillow at her mother's legs. "He's not dead!"
They both laughed, the sound warm and filling the cozy space. Nikolai returned a few moments later, his shirt slightly wrinkled from carrying Andrei.
"All tucked in?" Elara asked.
"He didn't even open his eyes," Nikolai replied, sitting down beside her again and resting a hand over her belly.
Nova smiled at the sight. Her parents—flawed, chaotic, but still the kind of love story that was rare and real.
"Anyway," she said, getting up and stretching, "I'm going to take a shower and maybe do some sketches before bed. Might check in with Andrew tomorrow morning, see if he survived the night."
Elara grinned. "Tell him I said hi. And that if he's smart, he'll wear reflective clothing around you."
Nova rolled her eyes. "Ha. Ha. Very funny."
With a final wave, she headed upstairs, the faint sounds of her parents' laughter and the low hum of the movie fading behind her. Upstairs, the villa was quiet and dimly lit, the peaceful calm of home settling around her like a blanket.
Maybe tomorrow she'd visit the café again.
Maybe Andrew would still be there.
And maybe—just maybe—something good was beginning.