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Agust of crisp air greets us as we roll out of the hospital, but all I can focus on is the damn wheelchair I’m in.
"Just so we're all clear," I start, adjusting the shawl draped over my legs, "this is a temporary setback. Not some new lifestyle choice."
Viktor chuckles, while Samuil gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I notice Andrei trying to hide a smile.
"Nobody's questioning your resilience, Ana," Samuil murmurs, his voice soft but the humor in it unmistakable.
"Yeah," I shoot back, though the edge in my tone is playful, "because if they did, they'd get a firsthand demonstration of how a woman in a wheelchair can still kick ass."
Sandra slides in next to me. "You always did have a way with words," she says playfully.
Viktor raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "Leave it to my sister to turn recovery into a threat."
I shrug, a small smile betraying my tough facade. "Gotta keep you boys on your toes."
There's a shared moment of lightness between us, but the trauma of the past weeks still hangs heavy. It's clear to see inthe lines of concern etched across Samuil's face, in the furrow of Andrei's brow, and in Sandra's tense posture.
Samuil clears his throat, disrupting the short-lived joviality. "So, the plan," he starts, avoiding my eyes for just a fraction of a second too long, "is for Ana to stay with me while she recovers."
Viktor nods. "Makes sense. Your place is more accessible than the family estate, and it's closer to the hospital if... well, you know."
"I don't need constant supervision," I interject, feeling the prickling sting of my pride. I don’t mean that entirely, but the words still leave a slightly bitter taste in my mouth.
Sandra places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It's not about supervision, dear. It's about being surrounded by loved ones who care for you and will aid in your healing."
"And who can also keep an eye on Samuil, make sure he doesn't smother me," I tease, shooting a side-glance at him.
Samuil rolls his eyes, but there's no hiding the warmth and affection in his expression. "Trust me, with your stubbornness, even a battalion couldn't smother you."
Andrei grins. "That she got from Viktor."
My brother shrugs, mock offense on his face. "Guilty as charged."
The atmosphere is lighter now, the banter pushing away the shadows of worry, if only for a little while. I know the road ahead won't be easy. The memories of the poison, the excruciating pain, the weeks lost in unconsciousness—they all lurk in the recesses of my mind. But now surrounded by those I hold dear, I let myself bask in the present. The jokes, the laughter, the shared understanding that we're in this together.
The hum of the car engine combines with the gentle rhythm of the streets. I stare out the window, the steady progression of Moscow's architecture flashing by. The world outside feels like a distant memory, even though I was only confined for a fewweeks. The familiar scenes—the vendors selling pirozhki, the kids running around in the parks, the grandeur of the historical buildings—all of it makes me draw in a deep, satisfied breath.
"I've missed this," I say, more to myself than to Samuil. The city looks the same, yet to my freshly appreciative eyes, it seems to sparkle just a bit brighter.
Samuil's voice interrupts my reverie. "The world missed you, too."
I chuckle at his sentimentality but can't hide the smile that lingers on my lips. As we weave through the streets, a realization suddenly strikes me. I turn to Samuil, an eyebrow raised. "You know, I've been out of it for a while, but I'm pretty certain you don't live anywhere near this hospital."
His grip tightens momentarily on the wheel. "Observant as ever," he says, flashing me a half-smile. "There's been a change of venue."
"Change of venue?" I echo, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
He takes a deep breath. "I realized, after everything that’s happened, that my old apartment was woefully inadequate for your recovery. It wasn't big enough, wasn't safe enough."
Before I can demand a clear answer, he makes a turn and we pull up in front of a stunning structure in the upscale neighborhood of Khamovniki. Towering over the neighboring buildings, the facade of the condo gleams in the afternoon sun, a mix of modern architecture and classic Moscow elegance.
I'm almost speechless. "Samuil... is this..."
He parks the car and turns to me, a hint of apprehension in his eyes. "Yes. Welcome to our new home. At least for now."
I blink, trying to process the grand gesture. "You got this place for me?"
He runs a hand through his hair, a sheepish grin on his face. "Well, for us. Look, Ana, it's not just about the space orthe safety. It's about creating an environment where you can heal, where we can be together without any concerns.” There’s a pause. “And if you hate it, it can be temporary.”
