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“She’s strong,” Andrei says after a beat, his voice firm. “She'll pull through this.”
The doctor nods, his face sympathetic. “She’s in good hands. We’re doing everything we can.”
But that isn’t enough for me. Without another word, I push past the doctor and step into Ana’s room. The sight of her lying there, pale and fragile, tears at me. I approach her bedside, taking her hand into mine. Her skin feels cold, but her pulse, although faint, still beats rhythmically under my touch.
I lower my head, feeling the weight of the situation settling in.
Whatever it takes, I will make sure Ana pulls through this. No matter the cost.
There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, revealing Viktor’s towering frame. He steps inside, pausing for a momentto gaze at his sister. I can see the pain in his eyes, the same pain I feel.
“Samuil,” he says, his voice breaking the silence, “I heard about the mission. You guys did well.”
I nod, my voice barely audible. “Thanks.”
“It’s not the same without her, is it?” Viktor comments, his eyes on Ana.
“Nothing is,” I admit, feeling the loss of her presence, her positive spirit.
Viktor chuckles softly, taking a seat next to me. “You know, when Ana was about ten, she decided she wanted a treehouse. Our father told her it was too dangerous, that she was too young. But she was adamant. So she started building one herself.”
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite my worry.
“She collected scraps of wood, nails, anything she could find. She even stole a hammer from the toolshed,” Viktor continues, a glint of pride in his eyes. “For weeks, she worked on that treehouse, ignoring our taunts and the endless scrapes and bruises she got. One day she fell, twisted her ankle real bad. We all thought that would be the end of it. But the next day, there she was, climbing up the tree, determined to finish what she started.”
I can’t help but smile, imagining a young, stubborn Ana building a treehouse with sheer will and determination.
“That’s Ana for you. Stubborn as hell, never backs down from a challenge. Even when the odds are stacked against her.” Viktor says, a fondness lacing his words.
My heart swells with pride. That’s the woman I love. The same woman who, against all odds, wormed her way into my heart, breaking down the walls I’d built around myself.
Viktor’s expression shifts, growing serious. “The doctors told me there's a good chance she might never wake up.”
I take a deep breath, feeling a renewed surge of determination. “That doesn’t matter.”
Viktor looks at me, confusion evident in his gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I pause, finding the right words, “Ana is a fighter, in every sense of the word. She’s faced worse and come out stronger. I won’t accept this fate for her. And I won’t ever give up on her.”
Viktor studies me for a moment, his gaze piercing. Then, slowly he smiles. “Maybe you are the right man for my sister after all.”
I look back at Ana, her face peaceful, a stark contrast to the battle she’s fighting within. With everything in me, I vow to stand by her, to fight for her, just as she would for me.
Days turn into weeks. My hair grows longer, and my beard becomes unruly. The sharp contours of my face are buried beneath the scruff. But I barely notice. I can't. All I see, all I feel, is her. Ana.
The walls of the hospital room have become my world. The rhythmic beeping of her heart monitor is my new anthem. I wake up to it. I fall asleep to it. Every soft exhale, every flutter of her eyelids makes my heart race with hope.
Viktor comes by often, bringing food and fresh clothes, trying to coax me to eat, to shower, tolive. But every bite tastes like ash in my mouth. Every shower feels like a hollow attempt to wash away the despair.
"Samuil," he says one day, pulling up a chair beside me. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."
"I'm not leaving her," I reply, my voice raw.
"It's not about leaving her," Viktor says, his voice gentle but firm. "It's about finding a balance. For both your sakes."
I glare at him, but he doesn't flinch. "She's my sister, Samuil. I love her. But I can't watch you destroy yourself. She wouldn’t want that."
Andrei, Roman, Damien, Leo all visit in rotating shifts, each trying to pull me from the vortex of hopelessness I'm spiraling into. They bring stories of the outside world, of our business, of the empire we're building. I know they’re just trying to help, to distract me. But it all feels so distant, so trivial. What's an empire without its queen?
