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Vanya enters, her expression uncharacteristically hesitant. In her hands is a small bouquet of wildflowers.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” she says. “I just wanted to see how you were feeling.”
Despite the lingering ache in my side, I manage a weak smile. “Better, thanks to all of you.”
Vanya returns my smile, visibly relieved. She approaches and lays the flowers on the table near my bed.
“These are from my garden,” she explains. “I thought they might brighten up this dreary room.”
I breathe in the sweet, earthy scent. After so much chaos, it’s a welcome respite.
“They’re beautiful, Vanya. Thank you.”
She sits down in the chair beside me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I can see the guilt and remorse in her eyes.
“Caterina…” she begins hesitantly. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know how sorry I am. I never should have said those hateful things. I was jealous and pettyand I took it out on you.” Her voice breaks slightly. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of this.”
I reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright, Vanya. Truly. Let’s leave the past where it belongs.”
She looks up, eyes glistening. In that moment I can see the heavy burden she’s carried, needing so badly to make things right.
No more words need be said. We share a look of understanding, of forgiveness. The first threads in a new bond are woven.
Amidst the pain and uncertainty, there is hope.
“Come now, Vanya. She needs her rest,” says Mikhail, mothering over me like a goose, leading his sister out of the room after instructing the attendant to feed me breakfast and informing me that he’ll be back within the hour.
Chapter 11 - Mikhail
The room is dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls cast by the single lamp by her bedside. When I step inside, my eyes are immediately drawn to Caterina’s frail form beneath the white sheets.
Her usually olive skin looks pale and washed out, dark circles ringing her closed eyes.
I move to her side, careful not to make a sound and wake her. With a featherlight touch, I brush a stray curl from her forehead, my heart aching at the sight of her like this. Carefully, precisely, I gently lift her gown, revealing the large bandages. She stirs, and I ask her to remain still as I tend to her wounds, cleaning away flecks of dried blood and changing her dressings. She winces a little, but she’s under so much medication that she soon drifts back to sleep.
My hands tremble as I reveal the angry, swollen flesh, evidence of the violence she endured. Anger simmers within me, black and toxic, but I keep my face neutral. I can’t burden her with the darkness of my rage. She needs me to be calm, comforted.
I stroke her cheek and murmur in my native Russian, “I am here now. You are safe.” Her lashes flutter but do not open. I swallow hard, pushing down my fury.
I vow to find the person who did this to her, to us, on our wedding day. To deliver justice. I settle into the chair beside her bed, her hand clasped gently in mine. We have many words still left unspoken between us, but for now, this simple touch will have to be enough. My Caterina. I failed her once, but never again. This I solemnly vow.
Caterina stirs some time later, her eyes slowly opening and struggling to focus in the dim light. I lean forward, gently squeezing her hand.
“Mikhail?” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
“I’m here, Bunny,” I reply softly.
Her brow furrows as she tries to sit up. I press a hand gently to her shoulder. “Lie still. You are too weak.”
“The shooter…” she says anxiously, her eyes darting around the room. “Where…?”
My jaw tightens, a muscle feathering in my cheek. I keep my tone even and calm. “Do not worry about him now. You’re safe here. My men are searching for who is responsible as we speak. Your father is furious too. With both our forces combined, he can’t run much longer.”
Her eyes meet mine, still wide with fear. She grips my hand tightly. “You will find them? Make them pay?”
I nod, holding her gaze steadily. Inside, I seethe at the terror in her voice, the vulnerability I swore to protect, yet failed. But I contain the storm within me. For now, she needs reassurance, not the fury of my retribution.
“They will pay. I give you my word.” I lift her hand and brush my lips tenderly over her knuckles. “Rest now. I will let no harm come to you again.”
