[REBECCA]
I tried to shake my head, but she kept talking over me. “Becca, you’re too kind for your own good. And that just makes it even worse. You didn’t deserve how he treated you. So, please, humor me, okay?”
“No,” I snapped.
Lynda threw her hands up in frustration.
“Lynda, I don’t want to hurt him. He’s angry and doesn’t want to see me,” I replied.
“And that’s where you’re mistaken,” Lynda hurriedly explained. “Artemy wants to see you. He let you play the piano, for God’s sake. It means something, something significant. He’s just frustrated with himself, and that’s why he took it out on you. I know him, Becca. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine.”
“But-”
Lynda shook her head firmly. “No. You’re running late. Go give Artemy his breakfast.” When I hesitated, she gently pushed me toward the door. “Go. And good luck! You can do this.”
As I walked out of the kitchen, I heard Lynda call out after me, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”
“Okay,” I murmured, my voice trembling.
Passing by Avim and Brayden on my way upstairs, I could feel their intense gazes on my back, sending a shiver down my spine. I kept my eyes down, deliberately avoiding any interaction with them.
With each step I took toward Artemy’s office, my heart pounded painfully in my chest. My hands grew cold, and a thin sheen of sweat trickled down my neck and between my shoulder blades.
Stopping in front of the door, I took a deep breath and raised my hand. The moment my knuckles tapped against the door, Artemy’s voice came through.
“Come in.”
I entered to find him facing away from me, dressed only in a black shirt and slacks. As soon as I cleared my throat, he swiftly turned around, his eyes widening at the sight of me.
A sigh of relief escaped me when I noticed he had taken a shower. He wore a clean dress shirt, and his damp hair indicated recent washing. His face was also free from blood now.
I also noticed that he struggled to rewrap his bandages.
“I brought your breakfast,” I said, surprisingly managing to speak without stuttering. He remained silent, his expression impassive, before nodding towards the coffee table.
I placed the tray down and stood up straight, facing Artemy. We locked eyes for a moment before my gaze dropped to his hands.
Taking a hesitant step closer, I cleared my throat once more before nervously asking, “Would you like me to help with the bandages?”
He had made it clear before that he didn’t want my assistance, but there was no harm in offering again, right? It was ultimately his decision to accept or decline.
Artemy glanced down at his hands and then shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll manage.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he responded briskly. He attempted to wrap the bandages around his hands, and I stood motionless, silently observing his struggle.
It was a chaotic situation, but I couldn’t think about the consequences. I approached him without hesitation and gently took hold of his hands. Artemy froze, his breath grazing my forehead. With my head bowed, I began to wrap bandages around his injured hands.
He stood completely still, his muscles hardly twitching. His breathing was uneven. My heart pounded in my chest, and my stomach twisted nervously at the proximity to him.
When I finished, I stepped back and offered him a faint smile. “Finished,” I whispered, our eyes meeting.
Artemy didn’t respond, and I hadn’t expected him to. I smiled at him once more before turning to walk away. Just as I approached the door, his voice halted me.
“Wait,” he demanded.
I stopped and, hearing him sigh, decided to face him again. I turned around to find him running a hand through his hair. He glanced down, then leaned against his desk, crossing his ankles.
“About this morning,” Artemy began, looking back up. “I shouldn’t have yelled. That was a mistake.”
He seemed slightly uncomfortable. Although his words were intended to be kind, his face remained stern and cold. But I didn’t mind. It was his words that counted. It wasn’t an apology, but it was enough for me.
That was all I needed to hear.
His words made my heart flutter, and I smiled once more. “Okay,” I replied.
Artemy nodded, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked relieved.
Lynda had been right. He had been feeling guilty. But I was glad that my acceptance had lifted that burden from him.
As silence filled the room again, I took it as my cue to leave. However, Artemy spoke once more. His words took my breath away, and I placed a hand over my chest.
“You can keep playing the piano if you want.”
I stared at him in confusion as my heart raced. I had to steady my knees to avoid collapsing to the floor.
Hope surged within me at his words, and all I wanted to do was cry.
“I can?” I asked.
Artemy nodded, his expression shifting to slight embarrassment. “That’s my way of making it up to you,” he replied.
How could he be both sweet and gentle, yet heartless and cruel at the same time?
His words conveyed one thing, while his actions spoke of something entirely different.
I was afraid to hope, knowing he could change his mind in an instant, shattering me. But I couldn’t suppress the feeling of happiness coursing through my body.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice brimming with emotion and gratitude as tears clouded my vision.
He nodded again without uttering a word, seemingly swallowing nervously.
After a few moments of him avoiding eye contact while I gazed at him through tear-filled eyes, I decided it was time to leave.
Turning around, I reached for the doorknob but hesitated. Instead, I paused and wiped away my tears before whispering once more, “Thank you.”
I didn’t know if he heard me or not, but I didn’t give him a chance to respond. Opening the door, I walked out, feeling light and content.
I skipped downstairs, barely containing the smile on my face.
As soon as I reached the kitchen, I ran to Lynda and embraced her tightly. She chuckled.
“I can tell things went well. I’d say very well, judging by the expression on your face,” Lynda remarked playfully, returning the hug.
I nodded and then laughed joyously. “He told me I can keep playing the piano!”
Lynda’s eyes softened even more, and she beamed brightly. “There
you go. See, I told you.”
“Lynda, I think… I am happy.”
“I know. I’m happy too.”
I nodded and smiled in return. My cheeks hurt from the constant smiling, but I didn’t mind. When was the last time I smiled and laughed like this?
I couldn’t recall. It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was how I felt in that moment.