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She doesn’t say a word and I accept it as a sign to take my leave. As I get up on my feet she whispers, “You can stay, if you like.”
I smile, and sit back down. She slides the tray over, and I take a little bite of the berries.
Chapter 12 - Caterina
We finish eating in silence and I stare at Mikhail, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. Yet as we sit here in the wake of our recent conversation, I find my rage beginning to mix with understanding. I think back to the day he disappeared from my life without warning. It must have been impossibly difficult for him to leave me, even if it was for my own protection. The sacrifices he’s made over the years all make sense now.
Mikhail rubs his temple, exhaustion carving lines in his face. His usual vigor is gone, replaced by weariness. For the first time, I notice just how much of a toll this has taken on him. He’s been carrying this burden far longer than I have.
“You should rest,” I say, my voice softening. “We can continue this later.”
He shakes his head. “I need to explain everything first. You deserve to know the truth.”
His dedication despite utter fatigue touches me. I feel my anger fading away, affection swelling in its place. I realize now that everything he’s done, he’s done out of love. For me.
“Please, get some sleep,” I urge. “You’re no good to me like this.”
I reach up, brushing my fingers along his stubbled jaw. His eyes meet mine, surprise flickering in their blue depths. But he doesn’t pull away.
Exhaustion seems to hit us both at once. He sags against me with a tired sigh, strong arms enveloping my slender frame. I cling to him, breathing in his familiar scent. For now, this is enough. Answers can wait.
I lead Mikhail over to the couch, gently urging him to lie down. “You should be in bed,” he mutters.
“I’m feeling much better,” I explain. “It’s been a week already since…” I don’t know what to say. Our wedding? The shooting? The tragedy of it all is too much to bear.
He complies without resistance, a testament to his fatigue. As his head hits the pillow, his eyes drift shut.
I perch on the edge of the couch beside him, watching the tension ease from his face as sleep claims him. He looks so vulnerable like this, his usual mask of stoic strength stripped away. My heart aches, knowing the immense stress he’s been under.
Gently, I brush a lock of hair from his forehead. He stirs slightly at my touch but doesn’t wake.
A wave of exhaustion washes over me as the adrenaline from our confrontation fades. My eyes grow heavy. I know I should move to my own bed, but I don’t have the energy. Instead, I carefully stretch out next to Mikhail on the couch, nestling against his solid warmth.
He reflexively wraps an arm around me, pulling me close even in sleep. I let my eyes fall shut, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest. For the first time in years, I feel safe and protected in his embrace.
***
A few more days pass in a blur of quiet recovery. My gunshot wound has healed enough that I can move around without wincing in pain. Mikhail rarely leaves my side, attentive to my every need.
The cold anger that burned between us has thawed, replaced by a tentative understanding. We are not the same people we once were, but the love that drew us together as passionate youths still flickers beneath the surface.
I know I should guard my heart, but late at night when he thinks I’m sleeping, I feel the gentle brush of his fingers against my cheek. A silent apology for all the years lost between us.
This morning over breakfast, I finally voice my deepest wish—to see my daughter. Our daughter, though Mikhail doesn’t know it.
“Emiliana must be so worried here, without me,” I say wistfully. “Almost two weeks have gone by and I haven’t been there to see her. I’ve missed her so much. I think I’m ready to see her now.”
It was me who refused her visits, for fear that she’d be even more traumatized to see me with the wires, and the machines, and the huge bandages.
Mikhail’s expression softens. “Then it’s time you were reunited. I’ll bring her here to you.”
“No,” I say, a little too quick. “Let her nanny bring her. You must go attend to your work. The Pakhan will need you.”
He nods and exits the room.
Soon, I hear Emiliana’s excited footsteps bounding down the hall. The door opens, and fear grips my heart. There stand Sergei, Vanya, and Mikhail.
Someone will surely notice her resemblance to Mikhail if they stand so close to each other. I can’t let them, especially Mikhail, uncover the truth. Not when we’ve finally rebuilt our fragile bond. Moving with haste, I push myself up from the bed,ignoring the sharp pain in my healing wound. I shouldn’t have moved this fast.
