The tension didn’t break, but it shifted just slightly.
“You came here alone,” Avgust observed.
“Yes.”
“That was either stupidity or sincerity.”
“Both,” Zhenya muttered from the hallway.
Everyone looked at her, and she raised her hands.
“What? It’s true. We did tell him to simply get Elisse and get out, but he was the one who was trying to be noble.”
The smallest crack of reluctant humor flickered through the room, and even Avgust’s mouth twitched.
“Elisse,” Iosif said quietly. “Are you certain you want, and you want him?”
“Yes.”
“You understand that loving him does not mean we trust him.”
“I don’t need you to trust him,” she replied calmly. “I need you to respect my choice.”
Iosif finally stepped back, and Avgust followed.
“Very well,” Iosif said.
Relief hit me so sharply it was almost disorienting.
“This is not forgiveness,” Avgust added.
“I’m not asking for it.”
“This is not surrender.”
“I’m not offering it.”
“This is acknowledgment,” Iosif finished. “Of your intention.”
That was enough. Elisse exhaled shakily, and I instinctively pulled her closer.
“You’re really pregnant,” I murmured softly.
“Yes.”
A faint smile curved her lips.
“You’re going to be insufferable about it.”
“Probably.”
She huffed a small laugh. “I still hate you.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’m still angry.”
“That’s fair.”
