“You learned to skydive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For me.”
“Someone should share the things you love instead of forbidding them.” The words came out rougher than he’d intended, carrying more truth than was safe. “Seemed like a waste for you to always jump alone.”
The transformation was immediate and devastating. Anka’s face lit up with the first genuine smile he’d seen from her since their confrontation, radiant with joy that made her absolutely luminous. This was the woman from the photographs, the one who’d been systematically buried beneath other people’s expectations and fears.
“Viktor,” she breathed, and for a moment, he thought she might cry. Instead, she launched herself into his arms with the kind of uninhibited affection he’d been craving for weeks.
The hug lasted exactly three seconds before she pulled back, but those three seconds rewrote something fundamental in Viktor’s understanding of what he was doing and why. The way she fit against him, the genuine gratitude in her eyes, the transformation from hollow compliance to vibrant life—it was intense.
“Let’s go jump out of some aircraft,” she said, her grin wide enough to power half of Manhattan.
The next two hours were a masterclass in watching Anka come alive. She moved through the equipment check and flight preparation with the kind of confident competence she displayed in business negotiations, but here it was paired with pure joy that made her absolutely magnetic. Other jumpers gravitated toward her, drawn by the combination of expertise and infectious enthusiasm that reminded Viktor why he’d fallen for her in the first place.
“First jump?” one of the regulars asked Viktor while they waited for their flight call.
“First jump with her,” Viktor replied, watching Anka double-check his gear with the kind of focused attention that suggested his safety actually mattered to her. “Which makes it the only one that counts.”
The flight to altitude was simultaneously the longest and shortest twenty minutes of Viktor’s life. Sitting across from Anka in the cramped aircraft, watching her face glow with anticipation, he found himself questioning everything he thought he knew about what he wanted from this marriage.
The original plan had been about justice, about making her pay for the devastation she’d caused when she’d disappeared from his life. But looking at her now—radiant with happiness, trusting him enough to share something precious instead of hiding it—the desire for revenge felt like wearing clothes that no longer fit.
“You okay?” Anka asked, leaning closer so he could hear her over the engine noise. “You look like you’re having second thoughts.”
“No second thoughts,” Viktor assured her, which was both true and a complete lie. “Just trying to figure out how someone as smart as you convinced herself that jumping out of perfectly functional aircraft was a good idea.”
Her laugh was bright and unguarded, the sound he’d been missing without realizing how much its absence had cost him. “Wait until you’re in free fall. Then you’ll understand.”
She was right. The moment Viktor stepped out of the aircraft—following Anka’s lead because she’d insisted on jumping first to guide him through his inaugural experience—everything else ceased to exist. The rush of wind, the ground approaching with terrifying speed, the absolute freedom of falling through empty sky with nothing but faith in equipment and training to prevent catastrophe.
But more than the adrenaline, more than the physical thrill, was watching Anka in her element. She moved through the air like she’d been born to fly, grace and power combined in ways that took his breath away. This was what she looked like when she was truly free, and seeing it made Viktor understand why her family’s protective restrictions had been slowly killing her.
The landing was less graceful—Viktor managed to avoid breaking anything important, but his technique definitely needed work. Anka touched down nearby with the kind of precision that came from years of practice, her face glowing with post-jump euphoria that made her absolutely stunning.
“So?” she asked, bouncing on her toes as she began gathering her parachute. “Verdict?”
“Terrifying,” Viktor admitted, accepting her help with equipment he was still learning to manage. “Exhilarating. Completely insane. I can see why you love it.”
The smile she gave him was worth every moment of terror he’d experienced during the jump. This was Anka at her most genuine, her most alive, and Viktor found himself memorizing every detail of her expression.
On the drive home, the easy camaraderie continued. Anka chattered about technique and weather conditions and the other jumpers they’d met, more animated than she’d been since their wedding. The careful distance that had characterized their interactions for weeks had evaporated, replaced by the kind of natural intimacy that had originally drawn them together.
It should have felt like victory. This was what he’d wanted—to break through her walls, to matter to her again, to be important enough that his actions could affect her emotional state. But instead of satisfaction, Viktor felt something uncomfortably close to guilt.
When had his desire for revenge transformed into something that looked disturbingly like genuine care? When had making her happy become more important than making her pay?
The questions circled through his mind as they pulled into the mansion’s driveway, unwelcome and persistent. Ankawas still glowing with post-jump satisfaction, her barriers down in ways he hadn’t seen since before their marriage. She looked young and free and absolutely beautiful, and Viktor found himself remembering all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her the first time.
Which was exactly the problem.
“Thank you,” Anka said as they walked toward the house, her voice soft with genuine gratitude. “For today, for learning something you didn’t have to learn, for... seeing me.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him fully, her hazel eyes bright with emotions he didn’t want to identify. They were standing close enough that he could see the windblown roses in her cheeks, could count the freckles the sun had brought out across her nose.
“Viktor,” she began, stepping closer with the kind of unconscious trust that made his chest ache.
This was the moment. She was open, grateful, her defenses completely down. If he kissed her now, if he let the electricity between them complete its circuit, she’d be lost. He could rebuild their connection, make her dependent on him emotionally as well as legally, then systematically destroy it all when the revenge felt complete.
It would be perfect, devastating, exactly what she deserved for disappearing from his life without explanation all those years ago.
