Silence.
"I talked to Leslie. My friend from the study group. She was so worried. They all were. They filed a missing persons report, and my family told them I'd gone abroad, and nobody believed it but nobody could prove otherwise." I laugh bitterly."My father thought of everything. Erased me so completely that I can't even go back if I wanted to."
"Do you want to?"
I look at him. He's watching me with that steady gaze, his expression unreadable.
"I don't know," I admit. "That life feels like it belonged to someone else now. Someone who didn't know what her family really was. Someone who thought she could escape through hard work and good grades." I shake my head. "That person doesn't exist anymore."
"The person sitting next to me seems real enough."
"She's different. She's..." I struggle for words. "She's killed people. She's carrying a child she didn't plan for. She's in—"
I stop myself. But the word hangs in the air anyway, unspoken but unmistakable.
Misha goes very still.
"I have a solution," he says after a long moment. "If you want to hear it."
"Tell me."
"There's a private medical program in San Francisco. Small, exclusive, accelerated curriculum. They specialize in unconventional students—people who can't attend traditional institutions for various reasons." He meets my eyes. "I can get you enrolled. Security protocols in place, transportation arranged, everything you need to continue your education without compromising your safety."
"You've already looked into this."
"I started making inquiries the day after the rescue."
Of course he did. Because that's who he is—always planning, always preparing, always three steps ahead.
"It won't be the same," he continues. "You'll have security with you at all times. You won't be able to socialize freely with other students. Your life will never be normal again." He pauses. "But you can still be a doctor. If that's what you want."
I sit with that for a moment. A different path. Not the one I planned, but a path nonetheless.
"Why does it matter to you?" I ask. "Whether I become a doctor?"
"Because it matters to you." He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle. "Because you deserve to have something that's yours. Something this world didn't take from you."
The tears threaten to return. I blink them back.
"Misha..."
"There's something else." His voice has changed—lower, rougher, like the words are being dragged from somewhere deep. "Something I should have said before now."
I wait, my heart suddenly pounding.
"I've spent seventeen years building walls," he says. "Convincing myself that I didn't need anyone. That caring for someone was weakness. That I was better off alone." He pauses, his jaw tightening. "You proved me wrong. You broke through every barrier I built. Saw through every mask I wore."
His hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with my own.
"I love you, Bianca."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I've imagined hearing them, dreamed of it in moments of weakness, but the reality is something else entirely. The reality is his face, stripped of its usual armor. The reality is his hand, gripping mine like he's afraid I'll disappear.
"I've loved you for a long time," I say. "Even when I hated you. Even when I thought you were the enemy. Some part of me knew, even then, that you were more than what you seemed."
"I'm not a good man, Bianca."
"No. But you're the man I want." I reach up and touch his face, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You're the man I choose."
