“What happened?” Avelina asks, pausing as Leon climbs over her lap, reaching toward a butterfly that landed on the squash plant.
“It’s...” My words falter. I’ve never had trouble saying these things before. I sigh. “It’s Geliy.”
“What about him?”
“He, uh, there was a mission. He…didn’t make it.”
Silence stretches between us.
Her expression falls. But she doesn’t cry. She doesn’t gasp or deny it. She just nods.
“I’m sorry,” I say. And I mean it.
She nods again. “It wasn’t… I mean, he and I weren’t really anything anymore.” Another pause. “It’s terrible news. I’m not sad for me, not really. But…I’m sad for them.” Her head tilts toward the children.
Carefully, I stand and lower myself to the ground beside her. I cup her face gently and brush a stray tear from her cheek.
“It’s okay to be sad, Avelina.”
“I know.”
“I’ll make sure they’re okay,” I murmur. “Whatever you guys need.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you.”
She wipes her eyes and spares me a wobbly smile. It’s not sunshine, but it’s vulnerable and honest.
I’m not good with this stuff. I don’t pretend to be.
But as she leans into me, I know that I’ll be here for her—and she knows it too.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
AVELINA
In the days since we got the news, Sofia has taken Geliy’s death better than expected. She said, “It’s like he’s on one of his work trips but for longer this time. And while he’s gone, God will look after him in Heaven.” I’ll need to keep an eye on her and be there for whenever she needs to talk about it.
I can’t help thinking about the day when I finally left Geliy. About when he revealed what he really thought about our relationship. My mind wanders back to that conversation…
“It’s for the best,” he tells me with a casual shrug, barely looking at me, like this is a conversation about what to have for dinner rather than our entire life splintering apart.
My stomach twists with unease. Although I’m the one ending it, there’s something in his tone, a sharp edge beneath the words, that makes my pulse start thudding too fast. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not as if this was a marriage based on love,” he snaps.
The words hit me like a blow to the chest. My breath stutters. And my whole world tilts on its side. “What?” I croak. Because even though our relationship is at an end now, I thought the start of it was at least based on love.
He doesn’t even hesitate with his reply. “I mean, that’s not why I married you. Look at you.” He waves a hand at my body. “You were never much of a catch to begin with, but since you’ve had the babies, you’ve let yourself go. You’ve got fat.” He puts extra emphasis on that last word, and humiliation tints my cheeks red. My lips part, but no sound comes out. My heart pounds so hard it’s all I can hear.
He presses on in an ice-cold voice. “My mother was right all along,” he continues. “She always was against the idea of me marrying you. I should have listened to her to begin with.”
My throat burns. His mother has always hated me and has made that crystal clear in a thousand ways, but this is a knife twisting deeper. “Your mother?”
“Yeah, she said that you were just looking for a meal ticket.”
It’s like he’s physically striking me. My skin prickles with shame and fury. My voice shakes, but I force the words out. “You know that’s not true. I married you because I loved you.”
He finally looks me in the eye. And what I see there makes my knees nearly buckle. “I only married you because I had to. Because you were pregnant,” he says, each word hard and brutal. “That’s all it came down to. That’s the only reason I let you shackle me and chain me down.”
