Anka pressed her face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with gunpowder and adrenaline. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, a rhythm that had once lulled her to sleep every night, and gradually she felt the tremors begin to subside.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about last time,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. “When it was me in that warehouse, when I thought they were going to—when I wasn’t sure I’d make it out.”
Viktor’s arms tightened around her, and she could feel the way his breath caught at her admission. He knew about her kidnapping, of course—it was part of the history they shared, part of the reason he’d been so protective of her even when they were fighting about everything else.
“But you did make it out,” Viktor said firmly, his voice carrying conviction that seemed to anchor her to the present. “Both times. You survived, you saved your sisters, you came through it stronger than before.”
“Did I?” Anka pulled back slightly, looking up at him with eyes that she knew were probably red and swollen from unshed tears. “Because I don’t feel stronger, Viktor. I feel like I’m breaking apart piece by piece, and I don’t know how to put myself back together.”
The raw honesty in her own voice surprised her. She’d spent so long being the strong one, the capable one, the sister who could handle anything, that admitting weakness felt like stepping off a cliff. But Viktor’s expression didn’t carry judgmentor disappointment—just understanding and something that looked almost like relief.
“You don’t have to put yourself back together alone,” he said quietly, his hands framing her face with gentle certainty. “That’s what marriage is supposed to be about—sharing the weight when it becomes too much to carry alone.”
Something twisted in Anka’s chest at his words—hope and pain and desperate longing all tangled together in a knot she couldn’t untie. “Is it? Because for the past few weeks, it’s felt more like we’ve been competing to see who could inflict more damage.”
Viktor’s expression shifted, guilt and regret flickering across his features in a way that made her want to take the words back. But they were true, and she was tired of pretending that their marriage hadn’t become a battlefield where love and pain had gotten so tangled together that it was impossible to tell where one ended, and the other began.
“I fucked up,” Viktor said simply, the words carrying weight that went beyond simple admission of error. “I let my anger about the past poison everything good we were trying to build. I chose revenge over you, and I’ll regret that choice for the rest of my life.”
The admission should have felt vindicating—she’d been waiting for him to acknowledge what his pursuit of Adrian had cost them. Instead, it just made her tired, bone-deep exhausted by the effort of trying to salvage something that felt increasingly impossible to save.
“The shaking’s stopped,” she said, realizing it was true. The tremors that had wracked her body were gone, replaced by the kind of stillness that suggested genuine calm rather than forced composure.
“You always did have that effect on me,” she continued, her voice carrying rueful recognition. “Even when I was furious with you, even when I wanted to never see you again, you were still the person who could make me feel safe.”
Something flickered in Viktor’s expression—pain, maybe, or regret. He started to say something, then stopped, seeming to wrestle with words that wouldn’t come.
“Don’t,” Anka said, stepping back and putting physical distance between them. “Don’t say whatever you’re thinking about saying. I can’t handle false hope right now.”
She turned toward her car, every instinct screaming at her to leave before this conversation could inflict any more damage on her already battered heart. But her feet wouldn’t move, wouldn’t carry her away from the man who’d just held her while she fell apart, who’d saved her sisters’ lives without being asked, who still looked at her like she was something precious despite everything that had gone wrong between them.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and missed opportunities. Anka could feel Viktor watching her, could sense his internal struggle as clearly as if he were speaking aloud. And suddenly she was exhausted by all of it—the careful distance, the emotional walls, the way they kept circling each other like wary animals afraid to get too close.
“I can’t do this anymore, Viktor.” The words tore from her throat like broken glass, carrying finality that made her own chest ache. “I can’t keep pretending that we’re going to figure this out while you hold yourself at arm’s length and treat me like I’m going to disappear the moment you let yourself care.”
“What are you talking about?” Viktor took a step forward, confusion and something that might have been panic flickering across his features.
“This.” Anka gestured between them, encompassing the careful distance and emotional walls that had defined their interactions since she’d returned to him. “The way you comfort me when I’m falling apart, but then immediately retreat like touching me was a mistake. The way you helped save my sisters, but won’t even ask me to come home with you.”
She watched understanding dawn in Viktor’s expression, saw the moment when he realized what she was talking about. But instead of moving closer, instead of trying to bridge the gap between them, he seemed to withdraw even further.
“I thought—you left me, Anka.” His voice carried uncertainty that made her heart ache. “You made it clear that you didn’t want to be married to someone who couldn’t let go of revenge.”
“I left because I couldn’t watch you destroy yourself with hatred.” The words came out fiercer than she’d intended, carrying months of accumulated frustration and pain. “I left because loving you was killing me piece by piece, and I thought if I gave you space, maybe you’d realize what we were throwing away.”
“But you said—”
“I said a lot of things when I was angry and hurt and trying to protect what was left of my heart.” Anka moved closer, ignoring the voice in her head that warned against vulnerability. “But walking away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and every day since has been an exercise in trying to convince myself it was the right choice.”
She watched Viktor’s face cycle through emotions—surprise, hope, something that might have been relief. But he still didn’t reach for her, still maintained that careful distance that felt like a chasm between them.
“I thought you were done with me,” Viktor admitted, his voice rough with emotions he’d clearly been suppressing. “After what I put you through, after choosing Adrian’s punishment over your happiness, I thought you’d finally realized you deserved better.”
The honesty in his voice hit her like a physical blow, greatly amending her understanding of his behavior with painful clarity. He hadn’t been pulling away because he didn’t want her—he’d been pulling away because he thought she didn’t want him.
“Maybe I do deserve better,” Anka replied, the words carrying honesty that made Viktor’s expression crumble slightly. “Maybe I deserve a husband who trusts me enough to talk to me before making decisions that affect our marriage. Maybe I deserve someone who can love me without making it feel like a battle against his own demons.”
Viktor’s face went carefully blank, the expression of someone preparing for inevitable rejection. Anka felt her heart crack at the sight, recognizing the defense mechanism for what it was.
