"You should rest," she tries.
I shake my head. "Can't."
"Kira—"
"If I sleep, he might—" I can't finish. Can't say it out loud.
She doesn't push. Just sits there with me, both of us keeping vigil over the man who threw himself between us and death.
More time passes. The fever doesn't break. If anything, it gets worse.
I change the cold compress on his forehead over and over, trying to bring the temperature down. Nothing works.
"Come on," I beg him. "Come back to me. Please."
I lean close, my lips against his ear.
"Listen to me," I say fiercely. "You don't get to give up. You survived everything Roman threw at you. And you're going to survive this."
No response.
"We have plans, remember? You're going to take me somewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere." My voice breaks. "You promised."
Still nothing.
"I love you." The words pour out, desperate and raw. “I'm not going to lose you now. Do you hear me? I'm not losing you."
Semyon comes into the room. “I’d like a minute with him,” he says.
I consider arguing, but I understand the need to have a few minutes alone with his best friend.
Anya takes my hand and leads me out of the room. We sit down on the old, lumpy couch.
"Tell me it's really over," Anya whispers. "Tell me I don't have to marry him."
"You don't have to marry anyone. Roman can't force you anymore. We're free."
"Are we?" Her voice is small. "Because it doesn't feel free. It feels like we're hiding."
"It's temporary," I promise. "Just until we figure out what to do next. As soon as Maksim is better, we’ll know what to do."
I slip back into the room after Semyon finishes whatever he needed to say to Maksim. His face is unreadable as he passes me in the doorway, but he squeezes my shoulder briefly before leaving.
I climb back onto the bed, careful not to jostle Maksim's wounds. His fever still rages, his skin hot enough to burn. I press myself against his good side and close my eyes.
Just for a minute. Just to rest them.
The exhaustion crashes over me like a wave, and I'm pulled under before I can fight it.
I wake to whispered words.
"I love you so much."
The voice is rough, barely audible, but achingly familiar.
My eyes fly open. Maksim is looking at me. Actually looking at me, his eyes open and focused.
"Maksim?" His name comes out choked. "You're—you're awake."
