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I sit there, too afraid to hold his hand, but I do it anyway. My fingers slip into his, tentative at first and he’s quick to grab it with desperate need, I almost smile.

“And what helps you come back from that moment?” She asks.

Silence and then. “Her.” His voice softens slightly when he adds. “Just…knowing she’s still there.”

Dr. Isabella nods slowly, as if she’s marking something important. “That’s a lot of responsibility for one person to hold.” She says gently. “Even someone you love.”

His lips press into a thin line but he doesn’t deny it.

“I don’t mind it…” I add in a low voice, her head turning to look at me. “I’m certain I want him to pour everything he feels instead,” I’m close to whispering, “he suffers alone.”

His lips purse in a sad smile. “I’m not suffering, malyshka.” He lifts my hand to kiss it. “I told you I’m fine, as long as you don’t leave me.”

He leans back again, but his hand stays where it is, anchored to mine like it’s the only stable thing in the room.

“It sounds,” she says calmly, “like Elara has become your emotional regulator. Not intentionally but it’s become quite powerful.”

Sergei doesn’t argue this time. And I realise, sitting beside him, that this isn’t just about what he feels for me.

It’s about what he’s afraid will happen to him without me.

Roman’s hand lifts to touch me. Pausing just an inch away as he ponders over something.

“Can I touch you?” He asks and I squint my brow at him as Sergei and I enter our penthouse.

I nod, more curious than careful and he ruffles my hair with a weird smile on his face.

My eyes go as wide as saucers when he engulfs me in his wide arms and I still.

If he notices the rigidity in my body, he doesn’t mention it. Strangely, I don’t feel like the air’s been knocked out of my lungs anymore.

It feels oddly…safe. Because I’m not panicking.

Sergei tears us apart with one sharp pull, shoving Roman back, though not nearly as hard as he normally would.

I know he notices it too, that I didn’t panic.

That I’m fine.

“What was that for?” I scowl at Roman, but he barrels back towards me.

I plant my hands against his chest, but his arms lock around me before he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Okay, now I’m freaking out.

“Roman, go away.” I try to push him.

“Why does nobody want my hugs?” he pouts adorably.

“Because I don’t like you?” I raise a questioning brow.

“You’re my sister now.” He says casually, like the words weigh nothing at all. “You have to like me.”

Sister.

“Roman?” I almost fumble.

“What?” he leans forward, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “It’s either that or I’ll have to kill you.”