Maria
I don’t know how long I stayed there. When I wake up, Dominika sits in a chair, doing her needlework and humming softly. I don’t want to talk to her. I want to be alone. But Dominika notices I’m awake and puts her needlepoint on her chair. She sits on the floor with me. She reaches over and brushes her fingers through my hair.
“It hurts now, koshka,” she whispers. “But in time, the pain will fade.”
She pulls me against her, cradling my head, and lets me cry. The warmth of her body comforts me. Her familiar perfume fills my nostrils. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. It does hurt. The tears fall harder and faster until I’m sobbing uncontrollably. Dominika holds me tighter and whispers soothing words. She rocks me gently, and I sob in her lap until the tears finally stop.
My voice is hoarse, but my words are clear. “Did he send you?”
She frowns a little. “No. Mikhail Ivanov said you needed time alone.”
“He can go to hell.” My voice hardens. “I hate him.”
Dominika shakes her head. “You don’t.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because he loves you,” she whispers. “And deep down, you know you feel the same.”
My eyes meet hers. “What? But he …” I trail off.
“If he didn’t love you, you would not be here.” Dominika leans closer. “You would be dead.”
I stare at her. “He’s a monster,” I whisper. “He used me.”
“But you still love him,” she says. “You may not be able to say it. But you do.”
“That was before I knew the truth,” I sniffle.
“Then why do you cry?” she asks. “If you hate him?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“You cry because you want to hate him,” she replies softly. “But you can’t.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I pretend like she didn’t say it. “Why are you helping me?” I ask.
Her smile fades somewhat as she averts her gaze. “Because someone has to.”
—————
My head is pounding as I slowly open my eyes. Nausea hits me like a tidal wave, knocking me onto my back, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, desperate not to retch. I lie there, disoriented and weak. Slowly, my vision clears, and my stomach settles down.
I’ve been avoiding Mikhail for two weeks, and he has let me. I don’t wait for him to come home, and he doesn’t ask for me. And when I do see him, he scowls at me as if this is all my fault before he walks away.
Dominika told me he loved me. Well, he’s doing one hell of a job proving it.
I roll out of bed, stagger to the bathroom, and splash water on my face. My reflection stares back at me. My eyes are bloodshot, and my face is puffy. I can barely recognize myself. Nausea hits me again, and I race to the toilet, retching violently into the bowl. I cling to the edge of the seat and dry heave until the wave passes.
I stand up and lean against the counter, gripping the edge with my hands. My chest tightens as a sob escapes my lips. I close my eyes, but tears escape and stream down my cheeks. It feels like someone ripped out my heart and stomped it into a bloody pulp on the ground.
The sun is rising later and later now, and shadows have started lengthening as summer heat begins to give way to the cool hints of autumn.
Opening the cabinet, I stare at a box of unopened tampons in the back. How long have I been here? How long since we had sex? I should’ve gotten my period by now, but I haven’t. The thought of a baby makes me sick. Sicker than the knowledge that Mikhail won’t let me go.
I can’t bring a child into this mess of a world. My father betrayed the Ivanov Bratva, and I’m their bait to kill him. My baby will be raised in the same house as a man who is using me for his own gain. A man who’s committed to murdering my dad.
I can’t let that happen.
I won’t.
I wipe my face dry and take a deep breath. I need to get out of here. I have to escape.
“Are you all right, koshka?” Dominika’s voice quickly ends my thoughts. My gaze goes to the door, and she looks at me as if she knows what I’m thinking. She waits in the doorway, holding a stack of towels. I stare at her, frozen with fear.
I confided in her about the symptoms that have bothered me for the past week. Things she convinced me can’t be dismissed as coincidence any longer. She says that she’s looking out for me, and it’s time that I put her to the test.
“Did you get it?” I ask quietly.
Dominika places the stack of folded towels on the bathroom counter. She lifts the top one, revealing the pregnancy test. Dominika tries to hand me the box, but I only stare at it, as if I’m afraid that by taking it, it will make my fears come true.
“Here,” she says, extending it toward me. “The directions are simple. If you need me …” I notice the concern on her face and her eyes filled with compassion. “I won’t tell him. Only you can do that.”
I swallow hard and take the box from her. “Thank you,” I whisper, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll be okay.” My breathing is steadier. “I need some privacy.” I lift my gaze to hers. “But you’ll come back and check on me?”
“Of course.” Dominika nods and leaves me to take the test alone.