I stare at the floor, his words like truth and torture all at once.
“If you love her…” he continues. “You fight for her. Fight for your marriage, however it began. Because that does not matter anymore. What matters is now. What you do next.”
I let his words hang between us before finally saying, “She’s going to a hotel.”
He just shrugs. “Then let her. Let her believe it is her idea. But you make sure it’s the best one, and that she is protected every second she is there. Then you show her who you can be without demanding she come back. Give her space. Just not enough for her to think she can forget you.”
A dry, humorless sound escapes me. “So now that you are married, you’re the expert?”
“I think so.” He flips his hands in the air. “Just look at me and Emilia. I’d say I’m more than qualified.”
A smile dies before it can settle.
“I love her, Konstantin,” I admit to someone else for the first time. “More than I thought I could love anything.”
“I know,” he says simply. “It will be all right.”
But I don’t believe him.
When he leaves, the silence returns, thicker than before. My mind won’t let go of her face. It keeps replaying in brutal clarity. The way her chin trembled. The way she looked at me like every word I had ever said meant nothing. The sound of her voice when she said she loved me, like she could just erase it.
My fist slams into the wall. “Blyat!”
The thought of her somewhere crying, thinking I never loved her…it carves me open.
I’ll love her until the day they put me in the ground. Even if she never forgives me, she will always be mine. My wife. My punishment. My salvation.
And I’ll fight for her until my dying breath.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
FIONA
It’s beena whole day since I walked out of that conference room, and every minute since, I’ve had to act like I’m fine. I’ve been going through the motions at work like my entire life hasn’t been ripped from under me.
I swipe my cell against the doorknob of my new home, the penthouse suite Aleksei arranged for me, with the same two bodyguards following my every move.
Stepping out of my heels, I let them drop with a dull thud beside the door. My blouse clings uncomfortably to my skin, my slacks creased from hours of holding myself together. I don’t even bother changing. Phone still in my hand, I move past the untouched minibar and sink onto the edge of the bed, the exhaustion settling in like gravity.
When the screen lights up, I think it’s another text from him, but it isn’t this time. I haven’t bothered responding to his messages begging for my understanding or forgiveness. I don’t have it in me. I’m completely drained from everything. My parents, Aleksei, all of it.
Still, I find myself opening the photo gallery and staring at photos of us. Him standing behind me in the mirror, his handson my hips, my laughter caught mid-breath as he pressed a kiss to my temple. Another shot of us on his bike.
I scroll slowly, one photo to the next, like tracing a wound I can’t stop picking at. Each image hurts more than the last. When the pain becomes unbearable, I open our messages, reading through some of the old ones he sent me like a masochist.
Aleksei
I missed you this morning. I’ll be home early.
Fiona
Can’t wait.
Then from just a few days ago:
Aleksei
I will burn that red dress you wore to court today. That is, after I fuck you out of it.
