But I can’t let myself cry over Petyr. Not when the man I thought I loved never really existed in the first place.
I promised myself I’d never shed another tear for men like him, and I’m through breaking promises to myself. Because clearly, they’re the only ones that matter.
He played me. He doesn’t deserve my heartbreak, or anything from me.
Least of all a child.
I let myself drop backwards. For a long time, I just lie back on the bed. The silence presses in from every side, until it feels like my ears might burst.
My nails dig into my thighs. Sharp crescents bite into the fabric of my jeans. And no matter how long I stare at the darkness behind my eyelids, it always morphs back into him.
Petyr, saying cruel things to me. Smiling that vicious smile that looked nothing like him. Leaving me behind.
It’s the image of his back that lingers the most. He walked out without even looking at me. Like I was nothing.
All this time, I was just daydreaming. I let myself believe in a version of us that never existed. Kept picturing what it would be like to be married for real when he never wanted that for us.
I imagined us as a family. Him, me, our baby—the three of us against the world. Dumb morning routines and arguments over socks left lying on the floor, us stealing each other’s covers in the dead of night. I thought maybe, finally, I’d found a soft place to fall.
But the fall is never soft. The fall kills you.
Petyr Gubarev taught me that.
Because, while I was busy dreaming, he was busy lying to me. He planned behind my back the whole time and plotted how best to use me.
How much of what we shared was just another move in his game?
Too much,my mind answers. The rational part, the part I resolutely ignored. It was my only ally, and I didn’t even bother to listen.
I fell for Petyr. For his lies. God, I fell so hard.
It’s inexcusable. Not because it didn’tlookreal, but because I knew better.
I’ve seen what Bratva men do to the women in their lives. I grew up watching my mother fade into a shadow of herself and my sister be sold off like property. I saw my own freedom stripped away before I even had a chance to claim it. Clipped wings and gilded cages.
I swore to myself I’d never end up like that. I’d keep my guard up, no matter what.
I did a shitty job so far, but maybe I can still keep that promise now.
I stand abruptly. I can’t afford to sit here and cry. Not when the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been.
If I stay, Petyr will take the baby from me. He said as much himself. That thought alone is unbearable.
And what will happen to me then? God knows what he’ll do. A Danilo daughter married to a Gubarevpakhan…There are a thousand ways that story ends, and none of them are good.
No. One was good. It just wasn’t real.
I stop at the mirror, catch sight of my pale face and swollen eyes. For a second, I look exactly like my mother.
“Pull it together, Sima.” I force myself to speak. Remind myself I’m still fighting. “You’ve done this before. You can do it again.”
I survived once already. Disappeared without a trace and rebuilt a life from scratch. Everyone thought I was gone for good.
If I did it then, when I was twelve and penniless, I can sure as fuck do it now.
And this time, I won’t just be running for me. I’ll be running forus.For the little life inside me that deserves better than this bloodstained legacy.
“I need money.” My mind spins. “Cash.”
