Kirill is there, hunched over a vase on the nightstand as he carefully arranges a bouquet of brightly colored flowers, an overnight bag slumped in the chair beside him, and he looks like he hasn't slept in a week with his hair a mess and his shirt wrinkled.
He looks up when he hears us, his expression shifting from focused to his usual mask of mild annoyance. "Oh. You are finally here," he says flatly, as if we are the ones who are late to some appointment he never told us about.
I stare at the flowers and then at him, my confusion momentarily overriding my grief. "What are you doing here, Kirill?"
He gestures to the yellow blooms with a flick of his wrist, his tone casual. "What does it look like I am doing? I am making sure she has something better to look at than these depressing white walls when she finally wakes up."
Roman crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, his eyebrow raised. "Since when do you care about anyone's comfort, brother? I thought you only cared about yourself."
Kirill shoots him a look that could draw blood. "Since when do you care what I do with my time? You were busy playing chauffeur while I stayed here to make sure she didn't die alone in some sterile room with no one who gave a damn about her."
"Can you two not do this right now?" I snap, stepping between them with my patience completely gone.
"She just got out of major surgery and she needs peace, not your bickering like children." Kirill looks at Tessa's sleeping form and then back at me, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second. "The doctors said she is stable and that she won’t be up for a while. They put her in a medically induced coma so she can fully recover. So, there is nothing to worry about."
"Alright," I say, gesturing toward the door with my hand. "Now leave. I want to be alone with her."
Kirill raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely offended. "Excuse me? I have been sitting in that uncomfortable chair all night keeping watch over her, and you're just going to kick me out like I'm some stranger?"
"You heard her," Roman says, stepping forward to back me up with his arms still crossed. "Let's go, Kirill. Give them some space."
Kirill sighs and picks up his leather jacket from the end of the bed, looking irritated but ultimately giving in. "Fine. But I am coming back later to check on her, so don't think you're getting rid of me permanently."
"Whatever," I mutter as he walks past me, but he pauses at the door and looks me in the eye with that familiar arrogant smirk.
"You know, little sister, you could at least say thank you," he says, his tone light but his eyes serious. "I have been sitting in that uncomfortable chair all night when I could have been doing literally anything else."
I look at him and feel a tiny spark of gratitude despite everything that has happened today. "Thank you, Kirill. Now please, just go."
He smirks again, looking satisfied that he got his acknowledgement, and then he and Roman finally exit the room and leave me in the quiet.
I walk over to the bedside and sink into the chair that Kirill vacated, looking at my best friend who seems so small and fragile under the white blankets, her face a map of purple bruises and her arm tucked into a sling, and the sight of the IV drip in her hand makes the tears start all over again.
I take her cold hand gently and lean my forehead against her arm, finally letting out the sobs I have been holding back since I left Ilay's office, "I don't know what to do, Tessa," I whisper into the blankets, my voice breaking. "I have a family now, a real one, and my father is trying so hard to make me love him, and I can feel that my brothers actually care about me in their own twisted way."
I wipe my face with my free hand and look at her closed eyes, wishing she could answer me. "But then there is Ilay. I love him so much it hurts, but he is insane and dangerous, and he made me choose between him and the only blood I have left. He told me to run, Tessa. He told me he would hunt me down and ruin me."
I stay there for what feels like hours, talking to her while she sleeps, telling her about everything that happened in the woods and everything I am feeling, until the sun begins to set and the nurses come in to check her vitals and gently suggesting that I go home.
Eventually, I kiss her forehead and whisper a promise to return tomorrow, then I head back to the estate with Roman driving in silence the whole way.
• • •
The next morning, I am startled awake by a soft knocking on my bedroom door at seven in the morning, and I groan while pulling the covers over my head.
"Come in," I mumble, thinking it is one of the maids bringing breakfast or fresh towels.
The door opens and my father walks in, beaming with a massive bouquet of yellow flowers held in his arms like he is presenting me with a trophy.
"Good morning, my beautiful daughter," he says, his voice full of a cheerfulness that feels way too bright for this early hour. "I brought these for you thinking they would brighten up the room and maybe put a smile on your face."
I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, looking at him in confusion. "Dad, it is seven in the morning. Why are you awake? You usually don't get up until at least nine."
"I couldn't sleep," he admits with a laugh as he sets the flowers down on my dresser with exaggerated care. "I have been up since five planning a whole father-daughter day for us, and I wanted to make sure we got an early start so we don't miss anything."
I raise an eyebrow, still trying to process what he is saying through my sleepy haze. "A father-daughter day? What does that even mean?"
"It means we are going shopping and then to lunch at that nice café you mentioned wanting to try," he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement like a child on Christmas morning. "I even went ahead and picked out a dress for you to wear, but you don't have to wear it if you don't like it, I can just take it back and we can find something else."
