I rest my palm against the swell of my belly as I lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling of my new apartment. It’s nice—bigger than the one on Magnolia, newly renovated, and quiet. There’s a washer-dryer in the unit and a doorman downstairs who always offers to carry my groceries. A second-floor walk-up would’ve been cheaper, but the salary Konstantin left me with before he disappeared makes it hard to justify anything less. Plus, I can’t imagine a walk-up when my feet and lower back hurt as much as they do.
Guilt makes me shift uncomfortably on the couch. The apartment is comfortable, better than anything I could’ve asked for… and Ididn’task for it. For the money that purchased it.
The money that feels like hush money.
A job came quickly after that—a remote contract role for a private medical office upstate. I review their books, clean up their billing, and make sure no one's double-charging for root canals. It's work I can do in my sleep.
And sometimes, I do, because I’m exhausted. It’s hard to tell if the exhaustion is physical or mental or both. Both would make sense; it feels like I’ve tripled in size the last few weeks, and every single time I see Chrissy she exclaims, “How are you evenbigger!?” Some days it’s hard not to take that as an insult, but most days I’m just happy that baby and I are safe and healthy.
This is the life I thought I wanted—safe, quiet, clean. No blood smears, no threats, no staying up at night wondering if he’s okay.
And yet, I’m lonelier than I’ve ever been.
Konstantin hasn’t called. Not once. Not even a text. There was only a message, hand-delivered three days after we were released from the hospital. One of his men showed up on my doorstep, tall, scarred, and soft-spoken, holding a single white envelope.
The note inside was simple and direct.No one will ever touch you again.
My fingers itch with the desire to go get it, where I tucked it away in my nightstand. I’ve read it so often that the thick cardstock is already worn at the fold-over.
Aside from that note, I haven’t heard from Konstantin at all. Pregnancy hormones have me swinging wildly back and forth betweenDoesn’t he care about us at all?andFuck him! I don’t need him!Wedon’t need him!
And that’s true, but… I miss him so much it makes my throat ache.
Realistically, I can’t be upset with him. This is exactly what I asked for—to be safe.
The baby shifts under my hand and I exhale slowly, sitting up. My back cracks from the hours spent curled into this couch like a shell. I pull on a hoodie, tug my hair into a loose braid, and decide to walk to the library.
Maybe if I’m surrounded by books, I’ll remember what it’s like to be someone else for a little while.
The library is half-full, the way it always is in early afternoon—students dozing over textbooks, retirees flipping through cookbooks, the occasional couple tucked into the fiction section like they’re starring in their own meet-cute.
I drift toward the familiar stacks, trailing my fingers over the shelves without reading the spines. It’s more muscle memory than anything. You’d think with so much time now, working remote and not feeling up to going out, I’d be able to read. But my brain feels fuzzy and unfocused most days, on top of the exhaustion.
Emil appears from between two shelves, the small re-shelving cart behind him.
“Audrey!” His blue eyes, crinkled at the corners, scan me quickly. “It’s been a few weeks, darling. How are you? How’s the baby?”
“Good,” I answer with a tired smile, automatically resting a hand on top of my belly.
“You’re glowing,” he insists, making me laugh. He says it every time I’ve seen him, and I try to make it to the libraryonce a week. That first week—only days out of the hospital—was nerve-wracking. I wasn’t sure how Emil would feel about my situation… not that I explainedwhothe baby daddy was, but it was embarrassing enough that he wasn’t in my life.
Emil took it all in stride. I shouldn’t have worried so much. He’d only hugged me, tears in his eyes, and whispered, “Raena would be so happy.”
Then we werebothin tears, because thinking of my Nana did that a lot—especially when I felt so unmoored without her, so unsure of whether or not she’d approve.
Emil pulls me into a one-armed hug, gentle and fast, stepping back quickly when he realizes how much larger I’ve gotten since the last time he saw me.
He studies me with warm eyes. “Your Nana would be so thrilled. I mean that. You know how much she loved babies. She used to knit those tiny socks for strangers.”
“I still have three pairs.” They’d been in her dresser, the last set half-finished.
He laughs. “Of course you do. God, she’d be so proud of you. Doing this on your own. Brave girl.”
Something twists in my chest.
“How are you? I’ll be on lunch soon—do you want to step out, get something at the little food truck on the corner?” His enthusiasm is infectious, and I know I can at least look forward to the baby having a grandfather figure in his future.
“No, thank you though. I’m just trying to get out of the house today; I’m pretty beat.” The exhaustion is catching up to me again. If I sit down in any of the armchairs scattered across the library, I’ll probably pass out for hours. “I’m happy I got to see you though. Would you like to come over for dinner soon?”
