"You love him," Lisa said quietly.
Did I? The question had been circling at the edges of my consciousness for days, but I'd been too afraid to examine it directly. Love felt too simple for what existed between us. Too clean.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm not unhappy. That probably sounds pathetic, given everything, but it's the truth. I'm not unhappy."
"And he treats you well? This mysterious husband?"
I looked across the room at Vasily, who was watching me with those intense green eyes. He'd given me this call. Hadagreed to let me reconnect with my past, even knowing it posed risks. Because he understood that I needed it. Because he was trying, in his own imperfect way, to give me what I needed.
"Yes," I said. "He treats me well."
Lisa exhaled slowly. "There's something else. I can hear it in your voice. What aren't you telling me?"
I smiled despite myself. She'd always been able to read me, even over the phone.
"I'm pregnant."
The silence this time was shorter—three seconds, maybe four—before Lisa burst out: "Pregnant? As in, having a baby? As in, you're going to be a mother?"
"That's generally what pregnant means, yes."
"Holy shit, Gaby." She laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "You disappear for a month, and when you finally call, it's to tell me you're married and pregnant and living somewhere in Europe with a mysterious husband you can't talk about."
"When you put it like that, it does sound dramatic."
"Dramatic? It sounds like a Netflix series." But beneath the incredulity, I heard something else. Relief. Acceptance. The beginning of understanding. "Are you happy? About the baby, I mean?"
"I'm terrified," I admitted. "But yes. Beneath the terror—I'm happy."
"Then I'm happy for you." Her voice softened. "Even if I don't understand any of this. Even if I have a thousand questions, you won't answer. If you're safe and you're okay and this is what you want—then I'm happy for you."
The tears started again, and this time I didn't try to stop them. "I miss you, Lisa. So much."
"I miss you too, you absolute lunatic." She sniffled—was she crying too? "Promise me you'll call again. I don't care how encrypted or secure the line has to be. Promise me this isn't the last time I hear from you."
"I promise."
"And when you can—when it's safe—I want to meet this husband. I want to see you in person, see that you're really okay."
"You will. I don't know when, but—you will."
"I'm holding you to that."
We talked for a few more minutes—lighter things, surface things. Lisa filled me in on office gossip, on the chaos that had followed my disappearance, on the new assistant who'd taken over my accounts and was apparently terrible. Normal things. The kind of conversation we'd had a hundred times before.
But beneath the normalcy, we both knew everything had changed.
"I have to go," I said finally. "But Lisa—thank you. For not giving up on me. For still being here."
"I'll always be here, Gaby. No matter what insane choices you make." A pause. "I love you, you know."
"I love you too."
I ended the call and sat there for a moment, the phone heavy in my hand. The connection to my old life hummed through me—bittersweet, overwhelming. I'd thought hearing Lisa's voice would make me feel better. Instead, it had cracked something open.
The tears came then, in earnest. Not quiet crying, but deep, wrenching sobs that shook my whole body. I cried for Lisa. For the life I'd lost. For the woman I'd been before Vasily Chernov had torn my world apart.
I didn't hear him cross the room, but suddenly he was there. Arms wrapping around me, pulling me against his chest. He didn't speak, didn't offer platitudes, or try to fix what couldn't be fixed. Just held me while I mourned.
