I swallow a mouthful of eggs. "No."
"Why not?" she asks, dropping into the chair opposite.
I shrug. "It’s complicated."
"Everything about you seems complicated."
I meet her eyes. "Is that a problem?"
She considers this. "I don't know."
Honest. I like that.
"You said I could stay the night," I say carefully. "Does that offer extend?"
"For how long?"
"A few days. Maybe a week. Until I can move without ripping these wounds open."
She's quiet for a long moment. I can see her weighing it. The risk against... what? Compassion? Curiosity? That same instinct that made her open the door in the first place?
"One week," she says finally. "That's it. Then you go."
"Okay."
But we both know I'm lying.
She knows it too. I can see it in the way her jaw tightens, the way she looks away.
"I need to open the bakery," she says. "Will you be okay up here alone?"
"I'll try not to bleed on anything expensive."
"Everything in here is cheap. But try not to bleed on that, either."
She's already moving toward the door, grabbing keys from a hook on the wall.
"Lily,” I call out.
She pauses, looks back.
"Thank you."
Her expression softens slightly. "Don't thank me yet. You might still die of infection."
"You said that already."
"It bears repeating,” she calls from the top of the stairs.
Then she's gone, footsteps echoing down into the bakery.
I finish the eggs and lie back carefully, staring at the ceiling.
One week, she said.
One week to heal. To plan. To figure out what the hell I'm going to do about the Pakhan's order.
My phone buzzes. Iosif again.
