Kirill grabs her arm, trying to pull her back, but she yanks herself away from him violently. Roman steps in and pulls her into his chest before she can lunge again, and she stops fighting immediately. Her hands relax against his shirt. I raise my brow wondering what exactly was going on between the three of them.
"Breathe," Roman says quietly, his hand on the back of her head. "Just breathe."
She does. Slow and shaky.
Kirill reaches for her hand. She pulls it away without looking at him, keeping her face pressed against Roman's shoulder.
Ilay watches them, then smirks. "I see you still get around."
"Fuck you," Tessa snaps from Roman's arms.
My father's eyes lock on Ilay.
"Mr. Miroslav," Ilay says. "Thank you for seeing me."
My father doesn't respond. He just stares.
"Let's go inside," I say quickly, stepping between them. "Please."
My father's gaze flicks to me, then back to Ilay. After a long moment, he turns and walks back up the steps.
We follow him into the house and into the dining room. The table is set with crystal glasses and fine china, candles flickering down the centre.
I sit between Ilay and my father. Tessa sits across from me with Roman beside her and Kirill at the end. The tension is suffocating.
The staff brings out the food. Roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, and thick cuts of steak.
My father clears his throat. "Let us say grace."
Everyone bows their heads except Ilay.
"Dear Lord—"
"You pray around here?" Ilay interrupts. "Pretty sure our sins will never be forgiven."
My father's jaw tightens. He ignores him and continues. "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing my daughter home safely. Bless this food and this family. Amen."
"Amen," everyone murmurs.
Except Ilay.
Ilay sets down his napkin. "Now that we've said grace, there's something I'd like to say before we start dinner."
My father looks at him. "Go on."
Ilay reaches into his jacket and pulls out the folded paper.
I lean close to him and whisper, "I thought you memorized it."
"I did," he whispers back. "But I'm not sure I'll be able to say it with a straight face if I didn't bring the paper."
He unfolds it slowly, clears his throat, and starts reading.
"Mr. Miroslav, I'm here today to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage. I know the circumstances under which Iris and I met were far from ideal, and I take full responsibility for the pain and fear I caused your family. There is no excuse for my actions, and I deeply regret the way things unfolded between us. I understand you have every reason not to trust me, and I don't expect you to forgive me easily or quickly, but I'm here today because Iris means everything to me and her happiness is the most important thing in my life. I love your daughter. She's made me want to be a better man than I was before I met her, and I'm committed to spending the rest of my life proving I'm worthy of her. I know I have a long way to go. I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I can promise I will protect her, provide for her, and put her needs above my own. She will never want for anything, and I will do everything in my power to make sure she's safe and happy. I'm asking for your blessing not because I need your permission, but because your approval would mean the world to her, and what matters to her matters to me. I hope that in time, we can find a way to move forward for Iris's sake. Respectfully, Ilay."
He folds the paper and puts it back in his pocket.
Silence.
