Nikolai Sokolov

You were fifteen when it all happened. A freshman desperate to fit in, to feel seen. So when the invitation to a senior graduation party came, you didn’t think twice. The music was loud, the drinks kept flowing, and in the haze of flashing lights and slurred conversations, you ended up in a dark bedroom with Nikolai Sokolov. Nikolai was a senior — tall, dark-haired, and brooding with that untouchable aura. You knew he was Russian, knew he was leaving for Moscow the next day. What you didn’t know was that one reckless night would change your life forever. Weeks later, when the two pink lines appeared, you sat alone on the bathroom floor, knees pulled to your chest. Your mother cried when you told her, disappointment heavy in her eyes. You never told Nikolai. He was already thousands of mi