No answer.
“Fuck.” I hiss.
I call again. And again. Each unanswered ring ratchets the pressure tighter in my chest. It’s only a few minutes’ drive, but it feels endless.
I put my foot to the floor. I don’t remember half the drive. Just the roar of the engine and the single thought burning through me.
Please be okay, please be okay.
I slam the car into park and sprint inside.
Lev is in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he pours coffee. I barely register him. My gaze is already tearing through the room, searching.
“Drago? What the fuck is happening?”
“Nothing.” I snap.
I’m already moving again. I take the stairs two at a time and barge straight into her room.
The shower is running. And then I hear it. Her sobs. Muffled by the water, broken and raw. Each sound punches straight through me. I’ve never seen her on an anniversary. She always hides out at home.
I’ve never been this close to her when she’s had a full attack. I’ve never been able to see just how much the woman I love is carrying. Just how heavy the weight of it is on her.
All those other times, I wasn’t able to help her. Not this time. I’m here now. Never again will she have to do this on her own.
I can hear the pain in her sobs through the door. And every single one breaks something inside of me.
I don’t hesitate.
I kick the bathroom door fully open and step straight into the steam, letting it slam closed behind me. The heat hits me like a wall, but it barely registers. All I can hear is her. All I can see is Lily curled in on herself beneath the spray, arms wrapped around her middle like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“Hey,” I say softly, already crossing the space. “Hey, baby. I’ve got you.”
I drop to my knees in front of her, water soaking through my shirt, my jacket, everything. I don’t care. None of it matters. I pull her into me, her forehead knocking against my chest as she lets out a broken sound that shreds straight through my ribs.
She’s shaking. Violently. Like her body doesn’t know what year it is anymore.
“I’m here,” I murmur, wrapping her up tight, one arm around her back, the other cradling the back of her head, pressing her face into my neck. “You’re not alone. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Her hands fist in my clothes like I’m the only solid thing left in the world. Her sobs hitch and stutter, breath coming too fast, too shallow.
I ground us both. Plant my knees. Slow my breathing on purpose. “Lily,” I say gently. “Listen to me. Look at me. Please, lastochka.”
She can’t. Her eyes are squeezed shut, lashes wet, mouth trembling.
“That’s okay,” I tell her. “You don’t have to look. Just breathe with me.”
I press my forehead to hers, water streaming down our faces, and start counting quietly against her ear.
“I-I think I’m dying, Drago,” she stutters.
“In through your nose,” I say, drawing the breath myself so she can feel it. “Slow. That’s it. Hold it… now out. Good. Again.”
She fights it at first. Her body bucks, panic clawing for air, for escape. I tighten my hold, not trapping her, anchoring her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her firmly. “Not now. Not ever. You hear me? This will pass. It always does. It feels like it won’t, but it will. You trust me, right? I promise you, you will get through this.”
Another breath. Then another. Her shaking eases just a fraction.
