Aurora
Slavik never came home.
The day passed, turning into a second, then a third. He didn’t call. No messages came through from his guards. They changed. One man coming, another leaving. For a week, this happened.
My birthday had to have been the worst on record.
I stood at the kitchen counter, a hand on my stomach. I found myself doing this more often than I should.
Wondering. Trying to figure out about the future.
My family hadn’t called. My parents sent no condolences to me, no birthday wishes either.
With a drink of water in hand, I walked toward the window and stared out across the city. I hated this window. The view. The heights.
People walked around without a single care in the world. There was no pain waiting for them. They could have children and be happy to raise them in this world. They heard about the terror and violence on the news, but it rarely reached them at their front door.
“Hey, little one. I … I will protect you and love you. I promise.” I whispered the words so the guard didn’t hear.
They had amazing hearing.
The silence from Slavik made me feel sick. Ivan Volkov was dead. I had no doubt Slavik would take over, lead the other brigadiers through this time. What my husband inherited, I shuddered to think. If I allowed myself even a moment to consider what was at stake, I questioned my position at his side.
Would he even want me?
I wasn’t … the kind of wife the boss would have. Ivan didn’t even have a wife nor a girlfriend, or an intended.
Sipping at my water, I wondered where I stood. Since Slavik had gone silent, I had to wonder if he was planning on getting rid of me. Ivan started our marriage. The peace treaty lasted between my family and his. I was the ordered bride. The consolation prize.
My hands shook.
Would I be kicked out?
My family would never take me back. People would look at me and laugh.
Stop it, Aurora. You have no idea what you’re talking about.
Slavik and I weren’t a love match. I rubbed at my chest. The piercing pain was more than I could bear. My stomach knotted.
Over the months, my feelings for my husband had changed. This silence between us only confirmed what I knew. I loved him and I hated it. I loved a man who might never love me back.
Tears filled my eyes and I closed them, trying not to allow them to fall back.
Not happening. I was not going to cry. I would stay strong. Nothing would make me weak.
I loved my husband, and after all this time, I would learn to love him even as he hated me.
A sudden knock at my front door made me pause. The guard turned and walked toward the door. I remained near the window, basking in self-pity. Pregnant. Alone. Miserable and in love.
Just kill me now.
Rubbing at my temples, I looked up to see Cara.
“Hi, darling!” She rushed toward me and pulled me into my arms. The action caused my water to spill over the edge. “I’ve been so busy with work. Utterly swamped.” She let out a sniffle. “I came over as soon as I could. Slavik, he has been … this is tough for the two of us.”
“You’re not with him?”
“No. Someone had to be here. You know how it goes.”
I stared at Cara. Her face wasn’t puffy or red. Her eyes glistened, but they were not bloodshot. I spent a lot of time crying, especially these past few days, and I looked a mess. My eyes were swollen, bloodshot. Even around my eyes was sore from wiping away the tears. I hadn’t known Ivan Volkov for a long time, not even intimately as a friend, but I still mourned his loss. Bad man or not, he’d only shown me nothing but kindness.
“You must be hurting?” I asked.
“I am. It … it has been a struggle to get up in the mornings. If it wasn’t for Slavik giving me work. He knows what I need to get me through this trying time.” She put a hand to her stomach and took a breath. “I loved Ivan so very much.” The same hand went to her mouth and she turned away.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I felt … numb.
“I’d have been here sooner. With Slavik off dealing with the funeral arrangements and of course bringing those responsible to justice. We will not let this stand. We will fight.” Cara’s face turned into a frown. Her hand clenched into a fist.
“I agree.”
I sipped at my water, noting the spillage on the floor. Brushing past Cara, I went to the kitchen, acting on autopilot as I grabbed a cloth and returned to clean up the mess.
“Honey, are you okay?” Cara said.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine. You’re acting really strange.”
I rubbed the floor until it was dry. I didn’t know if the few lunch dates Cara and I had been on constituted us as friends. My baby was currently my top priority. I loved my child so much already.
Talking to Cara about my pregnancy was not high on my list. “You talked to Slavik?”
“Yes. He is struggling, as I’m sure you can imagine,” Cara said.
I glanced at Cara, and she watched me. Head tilted to the side. Her voice sounded strange to me.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“He hasn’t called me. I don’t know what he’s going through.” I stood, taking the towel to the sink as my words sank in to my own ears.
Slavik, my husband, had called Cara before he’d even talked to me. Had our time together meant nothing? I knew the truth, and it hurt more than all the other rejections I ever felt.
“You know, it’s not a big deal. Vik is a complicated guy.”
Vik. The name some of his friends called him. “I guess.”