“But deserving better doesn’t stop me from loving you,” she continued, her voice breaking slightly on the admission. “It doesn’t stop me from lying awake at night missing the weight of your body next to mine, or seeing something funny and wanting to share it with you, or reaching for my phone to call you when something goes wrong.”
The confession hit Viktor like an avalanche; she could see it in his face—the way his careful composure shattered, replaced by something raw, desperate, and achingly hopeful.
“I miss you too,” Viktor said quietly, his voice carrying more weight than entire conversations they’d shared. “Everyday. Every moment. The house feels empty without your laugh echoing through the rooms, without your books scattered across every surface, without you humming in the kitchen while you cook breakfast.”
Tears filled Anka’s eyes at the admission, at the picture he painted of domestic intimacy she’d thought was lost forever. “Then why won’t you fight for us? Why are you standing there looking at me like you’re already grieving something that doesn’t have to be lost?”
The question hung between them like a challenge, and Anka watched Viktor wrestle with whatever internal battle was keeping him frozen in place. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Because I’m terrified,” Viktor admitted, the words seeming to be torn from somewhere deep in his chest. “I’m terrified that I’ll hurt you again, that my need for control and revenge will poison everything good between us. I’m terrified that loving you the way I do—completely, desperately, without reservation—will make me weak when I need to be strong.”
“And I’m terrified that walking away from you will be the biggest mistake of my life,” Anka replied, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “I’m terrified that I’ll spend the next forty years wondering what might have happened if I’d been brave enough to fight for something imperfect instead of running away when it got difficult.”
Viktor stared at her, and she could see her own fears and desires reflected in his face with startling clarity. They were both afraid—of being hurt, of hurting each other, of the intensity of emotions that made rational decision-making impossible. But they were also both still here, still fighting for something that felt too precious to abandon without trying everything.
“I don’t want revenge anymore,” Viktor said suddenly, the words carrying surprise even to her ears. “I don’t give a damn about making Adrian pay or ensuring justice is served or any of the bullshit I convinced myself was more important than our marriage.”
Anka went very still, afraid to believe what she was hearing but unable to stop hope from blooming in her chest like a dangerous flower.
“I want you,” Viktor continued, stepping closer with each word. “I want to come home to you every night and wake up next to you every morning. I want to argue with you about decorating choices and watch you steal covers in your sleep and listen to you read aloud from whatever book has captured your attention.”
“Viktor—” Anka’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I want to build something real with you, something that can survive our flaws and mistakes and the inevitable challenges that life is going to throw at us.” Viktor was close enough to touch now, close enough that she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I want to be worthy of the trust you placed in me tonight when you called me for help. I want to be the husband you deserve, not the one you settled for.”
Anka felt something break open in her chest, some wall she’d been building around her heart finally crumbling under the weight of his words. This was what she’d been waiting for—not just an apology or an acknowledgment of mistakes, but a genuine commitment to being different, to choosing her over everything else.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice trembling with hope and fear in equal measure. “Because I can’t go through this again, Viktor. I can’t keep hoping for change that never comes.”
Instead of answering with words, Viktor reached for her, his hands cupping her face with the kind of reverent gentleness that made her breath catch. When he kissed her, it was with the desperate intensity of someone who’d been drowning and had finally found air.
Anka melted into him, her body recognizing home in the circle of his arms. This was what she’d been missing, what she’d been grieving for—not just the physical connection, but the emotional intimacy that made everything else possible.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Viktor rested his forehead against hers, his expression filled with something that looked like wonder.
“You’re enough,” he said simply, his voice carrying conviction that reached something deep in her soul. “You’ve always been enough, Anka. More than enough. You’re everything.”
Epilogue - Viktor
The conference room on the forty-second floor of the Nikolai building carried the scent of expensive leather and lingering tension, though the latter was finally beginning to dissipate after months of careful negotiation. Viktor watched Adrian Volkov gather his papers with the methodical precision of a man who’d learned to trust carefully but was willing to try, and felt something that might have been satisfaction settle in his chest.
Not the vicious, hollow satisfaction of revenge successfully executed, but something deeper and more sustainable—the quiet contentment that came from choosing repair over destruction, from building bridges instead of burning them down.
“The shipping routes through the Baltic will be fully operational by next month,” Adrian was saying, his voice carrying the professional courtesy that had replaced hostility over their series of meetings. “My contact in Riga confirmed the customs arrangements this morning.”
Viktor nodded, making notes in his tablet with the same attention to detail he’d once reserved for planning Adrian’s downfall. The irony wasn’t lost on him—he was now working twice as hard to build up the man he’d spent months trying to tear down, and the effort felt infinitely more worthwhile than his previous obsession with revenge had ever been.
“Good. That should give us the leverage we need when we renegotiate the distribution contracts in the spring.” Viktor looked up from his tablet, meeting Adrian’s eyes directly. “I know this arrangement wasn’t your first choice, but I want youto know that your expertise in the European markets has been invaluable.”
Adrian’s expression shifted slightly, surprise flickering across features that had grown less guarded over their months of collaboration. It was a small acknowledgment, but Viktor had learned that rebuilding trust required accumulating small gestures over time rather than grand declarations that rang hollow without consistent action to support them.
“I appreciate that,” Adrian replied, and Viktor could hear the genuine surprise in his voice. “When Matvei first proposed this joint venture, I’ll admit I was skeptical about whether we could work together professionally.”
Viktor felt his mouth quirk into what might have been called a smile on someone with a better sense of humor. “Skeptical is a diplomatic way of putting it. I believe your exact words to Matvei were that you’d rather partner with a rabid wolf than trust me with anything more complicated than choosing lunch.”
“In my defense, you had just cost me a very lucrative contract with the shipping consortium in Hamburg.” Adrian’s voice carried dry humor now rather than resentment, which Viktor took as a positive sign. “And you did seem committed to making my life as difficult as possible.”
“I was.” Viktor closed his tablet and leaned back in his chair, studying the man who’d once represented everything he’d hated about Anka’s past. “I was committed to making you pay for taking her away from me, for keeping us apart, for making me believe she’d chosen to leave rather than been forced to abandon what we had.”
