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Where do I belong? Am I always supposed to feel lost like this?
Has home become just another word to me now?
“Ptichka.”
That word … That single damn word that has bound me to Arsen since the moment our eyes locked across the negotiation table brings a torrent of emotions flooding through me. It tumbles softly from Arsen’s lips, gentle as a caress and filled with promises that I know he cannot fulfill.
But it roots me somehow. It reminds me of where I stand.
Where I belong.
I turn my gaze forward, and Arsen stands in front of me. His hands are slack by his sides, and his fingers are twitching. The bandage on his hand catches my attention again. I don’t know if he’s hurt because of me—whether because he punched something in frustration or was hurt while he searched for me. But I know what his twitching fingers are a sign of: he wants to hold me. He was dying to hold me the entire car ride.
Part of me feels the same ache. But the other part …
Our monsters may wear different faces. But they’re the same.
“Sorry,” I say after a deep breath. “What was that about a bath?”
“I can have someone draw you a hot bath,” he repeats himself. “I’ve also called for a doctor. He’ll be here any minute.”
“A doctor,” I echo.
Arsen looks at my belly and instinctively, I rub my hand over it. His fingers move again. Yes, he wants to feel proof that his child is alive and well. No, not his child. Our child. This baby has endured everything I have. A familiar fear clutches around my heart like an icy fist. A baby in the womb can’t ask for help.
It could be hurt ... It ...
A rush of emotion slashes at me. I lean sideways, bracing myself against the nearest wall before the strength drains from my legs. Arsen starts to reach out, but I shake my head, refusing his offer. I know that if I were to allow him this single gesture, I’d fall back under his spell. I have to keep the walls between us up for as long as possible.
It’s easier to block him out than allow him in when I don’t know what he’s planning for me.
It’s the only way I know I can survive.
I’m not ready for any of this, I think in agony. I wanted Arsen to save me, but now that he has, I’m back to doing everything I can to keep him away.
All because of Yevgeniy and what he said about Kristina, about Pyotr, and about Arsen. I want to say that he’s lying, but there was no hiding the hurt in his eyes when he brought up his version of the past.
Just who am I to believe? The monstrous man who fathered me? The one who claims he would never lie to his children?
Or the man who gave me the hope of being a mother again? The one who claims he would never lie to me.
“Ptichka, what’s wrong?” he asks urgently.
“Nothing.” Lying comes second nature to me these days.
“Don’t lie to me, Galina.” His eyes darken. “I know when things are not okay. I know when you’re keeping things from me. And right now, I can tell that you’re doing both.”
I press my lips together, trying to think of how I can respond. He’s not wrong, but I don’t like being called out. If he suspects that I’m hiding something from him, then he’ll keep prying at it until I spill the truth to him. But Arsen is a man who’s willing to keep secret after secret close to his heart. Aren’t I allowed to do the same? Don’t I get to have secrets of my own?
A knock on the door distracts me, the door swinging open to allow an older man I recognize to come inside.
“Hello?” Dr. Helsan says. He’s not dressed in the long coat of his profession, just plain slacks and a green cardigan. He’s carrying a heavy suitcase at his side, and there’s an air of confusion on his face.
Whatever Arsen said to him, it must’ve sounded like an emergency.
The moment he sees me, his surprise transforms into a kind smile. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Isakov?”
My heart skips a beat at that name.
