Millie
I’ve spent the last two hours making dinner for Viktor and me, and I haven’t heard from him all day. He’s usually a lot more communicative than this, even taking time to text me quickly when he’s busy. Not
hearing from him for fifteen hours isn’t something I’m used to with him.
I wonder to myself if he’s just losing interest in me after having me here for a few months. The idea of him growing tired of me just when I’m about to tell him about our baby has my stomach in knots.
At one in the morning, I finally hear the elevator open, and I’m about to release hellfire on Viktor for worrying me so much when I notice that he’s covered in blood.
“Oh my god, what happened?” I beg, rushing over to him and pulling him into the house to sit down. I examine the bloodstains and realize that I can’t find an entry point anywhere, from neither a bullet nor a knife.
“It isn’t mine. It’s Stepan’s. He’s okay. He got shot in the shoulder after we were ambushed today. It looks like Erik has guys, and they’re trying to start a war with us,” Viktor says. He looks absolutely exhausted.
“Wait, why were you ambushed?” I ask, shaking from the shock of seeing him potentially injured severely. Feeling my reaction to the possibility of losing him forces me to face the fact that I truly do love him.
“Erik was apparently a big customer for a rival gang of ours. They were protecting the club he ran, and I found out he was also moving drugs for them under the table at one of the biggest clubs in the city. The gang was retaliating,” he explains.
“Can we at least get you cleaned up? Are you hurt?” I ask, looking over the stains on his clothes for the billionth time.
“There are some scratches, and there might be some bruising, but it looks worse than it is,” he says, stretching slightly and wincing.
“Let me get you some different clothes,” I say, and I rush into the bedroom to find something for him to wear. I find it ironic that I’m looking for clothes for him after he experienced something terrifying. It’s just like he did for me when he killed Erik.
I eventually find some sweatpants and a shirt for him, and I have to fight the urge to just run back over to him, throwing my arms around his neck and begging him never to leave. I want him to stay with me in this apartment forever, never to see the dangers of the streets again.
Seeing the way that he tries so hard to avoid talking about himself makes me hurt for him. I want to know what hurts, what causes him pain, and I want to eliminate it.
I need him to trust me. I need to see the side of him that experiences fear.
Then we’ll be even.
“There’s still blood all over your skin,” I say as I hand him the clothes. He glances at me with a degree of sincerity that I haven’t seen from him before, almost like he’s allowing me to finally take care of him after all he’s done for me.
“Yeah, just leave it,” he replies, leaning back and exhaling deeply. He probably just wants to go to sleep, but I can’t let him ignore his own wounds, even if they aren’t life-threatening.
“You need to clean your cuts, Viktor,” I insist, and I step into the kitchen to grab a washcloth with warm water on it.
“Please, don’t worry about it,” he responds, attempting to get up out of his chair and easing himself back down from the pain.
“I can see that you’re in pain. You don’t have to hide from me,” I say, approaching him slowly. I take his left hand and open it, revealing a hundred tiny cuts. “What is this from?” I ask.
“Broken glass. The leader of the ambush fell into it, and I grabbed onto his shirt without thinking,” he replies, attempting to breathe through the pain as I begin to pick little pieces of glass from out of his hands.
“You don’t have to do all this. I’ve dealt with worse on my own before,” he says, wincing again as I dab the washcloth over his wounds.
“Well, I’m here, and I can help. Do you want me to sit in the corner and watch quietly while you put yourself back together?” I ask, pausing to look into his eyes.
“That’s what the rest of them do,” he replies after a few seconds of deafening silence.
I haven’t thought much about what kinds of women Viktor must have dated in the past. Of course, I could never pass judgment on people I’ve never met, but from the sounds of it, Viktor isn’t used to being treated with any kind of love or consideration by the women he’s with. I could be the first woman he’s ever been with who gave back.
I continue wiping away the blood and debris from the cuts, finding one after the next as I work my way up from his hands to his arms. We don’t talk much, but there isn’t a lot that needs to be said. Even though he’s silent, I can feel the gratitude radiating from him as I care for him.
Tonight was going to be the night that I told him about the baby, but I’ve also scheduled an ultrasound in a couple of days to find out the baby’s sex. I figure that, without any spontaneous catastrophes, maybe I can plan a special dinner to reveal the pregnancy to him.
Even when he’s quiet, I can usually sense what’s going through his head, and right now, he seems a lot more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he never really had a mom, or maybe his past girlfriends have just been really selfish.
Either way, it feels good to see him loosen up a little bit. It can’t be healthy for him to be so tense and stoic all the time. Even though that’s the way he was raised, he has enough secrets to conceal on a daily basis. He doesn’t need the added pressure of being a stone wall.
When I can see that he’s finally falling asleep, I suggest that we both go to bed together, and I help him into the bedroom as he leans on my shoulder. He tries to fight it at first, not allowing himself to show even one more iota of incapability than he already has. When he nearly collapses into me, I know I’ve made the right choice.
He needs me, even if he doesn’t know it yet.