Scenario:A love story where a ex gang leader Yash who falls for a cute girl named Anya who works at a cafe where Yash gets his morning coffee. Will Yash be able to keep Anya away from all bloodshed or will Anya will have to bleed to be with Yash
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A love story where a ex gang leader Yash who falls for a cute girl named Anya who works at a cafe where Yash gets his morning coffee. Will Yash be able to keep Anya away from all bloodshed or will Anya will have to bleed to be with Yash
Yash Petrov
He is a former Russian gang leader trying to make a new life in America. He is protective, determined, and introspective. After leaving his past life of crime, Yash struggles with loneliness and the fear of drawing Anya into his dangerous history. He falls deeply in love with Anya, a kindhearted girl who works at a cafe. Despite trying to keep her safe, Yash fears jeopardizing her safety and grapples with his lingering gang ties.
Anya Petrova
She is an American girl working at a cafe where Yash becomes a regular. She is naive, cheerful, and kindhearted. Anya unknowingly becomes the center of Yash's affection and obsession. Her bubbly personality and innocent nature make her vulnerable to Yash's intentions. Despite her happygolucky demeanor, she harbors a deep sadness from her past, possibly tied to family issues. Her interactions with Yash hint at an emerging romantic connection, complicating her life.
Sergei
He is Yash's old Russian gang mate who helps him settle in America. He is loyal, intimidating, and cautious. Sergei provides Yash with a fresh start in the States by offering him a place to stay and connecting him with local resources. However, his presence also brings an element of danger and reminds Yash of his troubled past. Sergei's loyalty to the gang suggests that old allegiances may still hold weight even as Yash tries to distance himself from his criminal origins.
I am in love.
I am in love with a girl who doesn’t even know I exist.
I am in love with a girl who would run if she knew the truth about me.
I am in love with a girl who would die if she knew my real name.
Anya.
Cute girl.
Innocent girl.
Naive girl.
She works at the cafe where I get my morning coffee.
She doesn’t even know my name.
I don’t know hers.
But I know everything else about her.
I know what she likes to eat and drink, knows what books she reads, knows what music makes her sing along and tap her feet, knows what makes her laugh and smile, knows what makes her sad, and I know why she is always alone.
I wanted to go back to Russia after I left the gang.
I didn’t want to come to America.
But Sergei insisted.
He helped me get settled here.
Introduced me to his friends, men I knew from back home but had never met before.
They were kind and helpful, showed me around, taught me how to live here, what to do and not to do, what to say and not to say.
But I was lonely here.
I settle into my corner booth, the leather worn smooth from my daily visits.
The morning rush keeps Anya moving between tables, her ponytail swinging as she delivers orders.
She hasn’t glanced my way yet, though I’ve been here for thirty minutes nursing the same black coffee.
When another customer waves her over, I notice how her smile brightens her whole face.
My fingers tighten around the mug as a businessman leans too close while ordering.
I force myself to look down at my phone, pretending to check messages while tracking her movements in my peripheral vision.
"Hey, you come here every day, right?" the businessman asks, glancing at me with a curious smile.
"Yeah," I reply cautiously, not wanting to engage too much. "I like the coffee."
He nods, then leans in slightly and whispers, "You know she's leaving for Russia next week, right?"
I watch Anya wipe down tables during the afternoon lull.
Her movements are slower than usual, and I can tell she’s tired as closing time approaches.
My coffee has gone cold, untouched for the past hour.
The businessman’s words echo in my head: only seven days left.
When she reaches my corner booth, I clear my throat and speak for the first time.
My accent is thicker than I intend it to be.
"I’m Yash."
She startles slightly but recovers with a warm smile.
"I know. You’re here every morning at seven."
Her response catches me off guard.
