AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Leaning against a pillar, I close my eyes, silently sending a desperate plea into the universe.Please, Roman, keep yourself safe, just a little while longer.The weight of my duty to the Chechens and my budding feelings for Roman clash inside me, creating a turmoil I’m not sure how to navigate.
But one thing’s for sure. The clock is ticking, and I have to make a choice. Onethat will define the rest of my life.
The dim candles of the cathedral flicker as the members disperse, their conversations fading like ghosts into the night. With every step I take, the weight of the looming threat against Roman becomes more real. But first, I need clarity on a past that has haunted me for far too long.
Catching up to Vladimir, I touch his arm lightly, urging him to pause. His expression is one of mild irritation, the same one he used to give when we were kids and I had questions about everything.
“I… I have something strange to ask you.”
He regards me with curiosity. “Strange? What is it?”
"It’s about Iosef. What did he say to you the day before our wedding?" I ask, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability I rarely show. "Do you remember anything unusual?"
Vladimir's brows furrow, and he looks down, thinking hard. "Iosef? He was excited. Why?"
"We were about to start our lives together," I say. "But... something feels off. I've been trying to piece it together. Did he ever mention anything to you? Cold feet, perhaps?”
Vladimir takes a moment before responding, looking genuinely perplexed. "He was a bit quiet, yes, but cold feet? No. I asked him about it. I was to be his best man, after all. He told me he couldn’t wait to marry you. Why? What's this about?"
A flood of memories rushes back, each more piercing than the last. The days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of emotions. I recall sitting with Iosef in the park, watching the sunset, the hues of orange and pink reflecting our dreams and hopes. The cool breeze tousled his dark hair as he flashed me a smile that always made me weak at the knees.
During one of these evenings, I'd mustered the courage to tell him about the baby. The words hung between us like fragile glass ornaments, waiting for a reaction. Iosef's face went pale, and there was a silence that felt like eternity. But then he looked up, his eyes glistening, and he seemed genuinely excited.
"We're going to be parents," he'd said, pulling me close and kissing my forehead. But even in that sweet moment, I'd caught a brief hesitation, a fleeting shadow across his eyes, a distant, troubled look he quickly brushed aside. I'd brushed it aside too, attributing it to the shock of the news.
Now, standing in the cathedral's shadows, that look takes on a deeper significance.
"Valya?" Vladimir prompts, breaking my reverie.
"After I told him about the pregnancy, he... he was a bit strange. Just for a moment. I'd attributed it to the shock of the news, but now... now I wonder."
Vladimir sighs, looking down at the intricate patterns of the stone floor. "He loved you, Valentina. He was looking forward to the future. Maybe he just needed a moment to let it sink in. Don't torture yourself over it."
I nod, though deep inside, a new seed of doubt has been planted. Could there have been something Iosef wasn't telling me? Had he discovered something that put him in danger? My heart races, and a chilling thought crosses my mind: Was the news of our child tied to his death in some unimaginable way?
I need answers. And I'll go to the ends of the earth to find them.
The soft hum of the city fades as I step into our apartment, my sanctuary, where every wall and nook seem to whisper memories of happier days. The wooden floors creak under my weight, each sound a stark reminder of the burden I now shoulder, not just for myself, but for my son.
The familiar scent of Ilya's room greets me as I peek in. Toys litter the floor – his beloved stuffed bear Mikka, the collection of cars he insists on playing with before bedtime. Among the clutter, my son's face lights up, radiant with the innocent joy only a child possesses.
"Mama! You're back!" Ilya’s voice, bubbling with excitement, warms my heart. His dark hair, so reminiscent of his father's, is a mess, and his deep blue eyes glisten with mischief. "Where's Roman? He promised we'd get ice cream. Chocolate and vanilla, remember?"
I crouch to meet his eyes, gently brushing a lock of hair from his face. Each glance at Ilya reveals echoes of Iosef, causing an ache in my chest. "Maybe in a little while, sweetie," I reply, praying he doesn't detect the tremor in my voice.
He tries to hide his disappointment, nodding earnestly. "Okay, Mama. Can we read a story?"
"Of course, my love," I say, reaching for his favorite book – a tale of a brave knight on a quest to find a lost dragon. As I begin, the words spin a web of fantasy around us, offering a brief escape from our harsh reality. The soft glow of his nightlight bathes the room in a warm hue, and for this fleeting moment, all feels right.
By the story's end, Ilya’s eyelids droop with sleep. I plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Sweet dreams, my little knight," I say.
After ensuring he's snugly tucked in, I find solitude in my room, a wave of nausea sweeping over me. At first, it’s nothing – a mere wave of unpleasantness that could almost certainly be attributed to the events of the evening.
But it doesn’t go away. In fact, it gets worse. It’s not long before I’m springing out of bed and rushing into the bathroom. I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and vomit. It doesn’t take long before I’ve emptied my belly and am coughing with my arms wrapped around the porcelain.
It’s nerves – has to be. I stay there for a moment before soon feeling like myself again. When I’m ready, I flush the toilet, wash out my mouth, and leave the restroom.
Drawing the curtains shut, I sit on the bed's edge. My head sinks into my hands, the weight of recent events pressing down on me. My very being feels stretched thin. The looming danger to Roman, the unsolved riddle of Iosef's demise, Ilya’s well-being – all of it.
