I sigh and scrub my face with a hand. The old bastard loves his f*****g parables. Six months of them is starting to wear on me. “What’s your point, Kosti?”
“My point is that love is a siege, not a shootout. You don’t storm the gates—you starve the doubts. Outlast the anger.” He tucks the cigarette behind his ear, suddenly solemn. “Stop fighting with her. Start fighting for her.”
“Fuck.” I pass the hand over my face once again. “How do I even start?”
“You grovel.” Kosti’s laugh is rough with smoke. “You beg. You prove to her that the man she fell in love with still exists beneath all that scar tissue.”
“Then you become that man again.” He cracks his thick neck from side to side.
My lips twitch despite myself. “You’re an annoying old man, you know that?”
“And you’re a stubborn young fo
