“My sister married man my father liked.” Ilya lets out a small chuckle. “They were the same. I found my sister beaten bloody, and she was crying, and she said she never knew why our mother stayed either. But it’s not so easy after all. He had all the money. He knew all the right people. If my mother left, my father would drag her back. My father didn’t tolerate disobedience. And she had children.” He reaches up to rub his eyes. “I’m ashamed I never helped my mother.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
It’s eerily familiar to me.
I have nothing; without Ilya, I have nowhere to go. Adam has connections, and he’s made it clear that he knows enough to where I could end up in jail if I left.
But he’s never beaten me bloody. He might’ve hit me a few times, but I’ve always deserved the blows. If I hadn’t acted out, if I hadn’t fucked up, he wouldn’t have had to do it.
“Is she… still with him?” I ask, the words coming out thick.
Ilya shakes his head. “They are both dead.”
I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m sorry,” I say. I squeeze his hand again, then I rest my head against his shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me with that. I… I don’t… I mean… I’m not…”
I’m not like her, I want to say, but I know that could come out as offensive.
Ilya strokes my hair gently. “I haven’t told anyone,” he admits. “Only my sister knows. Thank you for listening.”
I close my eyes. “I won’t tell anyone either,” I promise, and I realize that’s the truth as I say it. I could never tell Adam something that personal about Ilya. He would only scoff and diminish it.
It nags at me that I can’t dismiss his mother’s struggles like I dismiss my own, but that’s not something I want to think about.
So I don’t.
“Thank you,” Ilya repeats. He pets my hair for another few moments before letting out a long breath. “We should pick up your cello.”
Nodding, I open my eyes, but I’m reluctant to let go of his hand, reluctant to put distance between us. I do it anyway, and when I stand up, I see that his eyes are red. My heart aches for him and his family, who have known more pain than I could even dream about.
“Okay,” I tell him. “Let me get my shoes on.”
Ilya waits patiently for me, not rushing me to hurry up with my damn shoes, and smiles when I meet him at the door.
“We’ll be fast,” Ilya promises me. “And then you will be done with him for good.”
My heart leaps into my throat.
No. That’s not possible. I’m not done with Adam.
He’s not done with me.
Despite what had happened the night before, I still love him, and he still loves me. That isn’t changing because of one incident, as awful as it had been.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Done with him.”
Why is there a part of me that wishes that was true? It’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid. I have everything I could need or want from Adam.
I shouldn’t be looking at someone else and wondering if they’re better.
I shouldn’t be wishing it could be Ilya.
So why am I?
I follow him out of the condo and to the building’s garage, and I smile crookedly when he opens the passenger side door for me. With him, it’s like I’m like something to treat like something…
Precious.
“Thanks,” I tell him as I slide into the seat, pulling on my seatbelt.
