"It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop." — Confucius
Vasilisa Smirnov
"Father," I exhaled in frustration, wondering what on earth to say to convince him. "He really can't follow me."
He didn't reply immediately. I could hear his harsh breathing from the phone pressed to my ear. I let out a deep breath, feeling the anger rise in me again.
When I normally called, it would always go to voicemail, but when I used Alexei's number, he picked up almost immediately. The surprise in his voice after hearing mine was so evident, as if he hadn't meant to answer my call.
"It's not safe out there, Vasilisa," he admonished in that annoying voice of his—the voice that made me sound like a petulant child begging for sweets when I was here, actually begging for some normalcy.
