I move on autopilot, pouring lukewarm tea from the pot, adding honey the way she likes. My hands are steady even though my pulse is hammering in my throat.
Married. Before Christmas.
Igor returns to his chair, and we fall into the rhythm of a normal visit—Galina asking questions, Igor answering in that measured way he has, me fading into the background like good help should. But her request sits heavy in the room, a third presence we all pretend not to notice.
When Galina's eyelids droop, I ease the teacup from her hands and adjust the blankets.
"Rest now," I say.
"You will think about what I said?" she asks, her gaze on Igor.
"Yes."
"Good girl." She closes her eyes, her breathing evening out almost immediately.
I move toward the door, desperate for air, for space, for anything that isn't this room and the impossible thing she just asked for.
Igor's voice stops me at the threshold.
"Aria. A word."
It's not a request.
I follow him into the hallway, and he closes the door behind us with a soft click. The corridor stretches in both directions, all polished wood and expensive art.
When he faces me, I force myself to meet his eyes.
"She's serious," I say, because someone needs to state the obvious.
"I know."
"You can't actually be considering—"
"I am considering it." His gaze pins me in place. "And I'm considering you."
This time I can’t stop the gasp. "What?"
"You heard her. She wants me married. She wants peace." He takes a step closer, and I resist the urge to back up. "You're here. You care for her. You're the logical choice."
"Logical choice?" My voice screeches. "You can't be serious."
"I'm always serious."
"This is insane. We can't just—you don't even know me."
"I know enough." Another step. He's close now, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, smell the faint scent of his cologne—something clean and sharp. "You need stability. Money for school. A place to stay."
"So this is a business transaction?" A bitter laugh escapes me. Of course, that’s how he sees me. When was the last time anyone even looked at the real Aria? "How romantic," I sneer.
"I'm not offering romance. I'm offering security. A roof over your head. Tuition paid. A future." His voice drops lower. "All you have to do is say yes."
"And if I say no?"
Something flickers across his face—too quick to name. "She wants you, Aria. She's made that clear.And I will do anything to give my grandmother what she wants before she passes away."
Guilt twists in my stomach. He's right. Galina looks at me like I'm the granddaughter she never had. What kind of monster would refuse a dying woman?
But marrying Igor Aslanov? A man I barely know? A man whose world is built on violence and control, even if I never see it directly?
