I look back toward the window, toward that glowing red sign, blinking against the tears burning in my eyes. “He will make it.”
My father stands, rests a hand on my shoulder, hesitant, as though unsure if he’s allowed. “I’ll go speak to the Bureau in the morning.”
“Good.”
He squeezes my shoulder once, then turns toward the door. I don’t stop him.
Watching him go, I feel the weight of everything pressing down at once. Guilt, relief, and exhaustion. But beneath it all, there’s clarity.
When he’s gone, I draw a shaky breath and glance toward the door. My legs feel unsteady as I stand, debating if I should stay put or go find a nurse. But before I can take a step, Alexei, Anya, and Viktor return to the waiting room. I see Viktor looks up first, concern softening his usually sharp expression. Anya gives me a tired but gentle smile, and Alexei approaches me.
“Everything all right?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “As much as it can be.”
He studies my face for a moment, then gestures toward the row of chairs. “Sit.”
I do, sinking into the seat as though gravity’s doubled in the last hour. My body feels numb, but my chest aches with every thought of Dmitri. I can still hear the sound of the gunshot, feel the wetness of his blood on my hands, even though I washed it off an hour ago.
Viktor leans back in his chair. “I just got a message from one of my contacts at the precinct. The cops have wrapped things up at your parents’ house. They’re writing it off as self-defense,” he says. “Your father gave a full statement to explain everything.”
I blink, relief flooding my body. “Thank God.”
Alexei nods. “Your father’s statement holds weight, so we're in the clear.”
It takes me a moment to find words. “So…it’s over?”
“For now,” Alexei says. “At least the part that could reach the papers.”
For a long moment, none of us speaks. The waiting room clock ticks softly, and exhaustion starts to pull at me. I close my eyes and let my mind wander…to a memory of Dmitri, one that makes me smile despite everything.
Dmitri coming into my life is the best thing that has happened to me in years. He was…
He was?
I can’t speak of him like he's no more.
No!
The thought of losing Dmitri sends me into another wave of fear. My hands start to tremble, and my mouth goes dry. I clutch my hands together, trying to stop them from shaking.
I have to stay strong, not just for myself but for his family, who are all seated here. I have to hold on to the tiny thread of hope and keep believing that he will make it. I need Dmitri to make it. He has to pull through. I don’t think there is any other way I’m going to live in this world without him in it.
Think happy thoughts, Mireille.
So, I let myself drift back into another sweet memory with Dmitri. It was earlier that day—the afternoon before we were supposed to go to Alexei’s mansion for drinks before Anya’s opera performance.
‘Where are we headed?’ I asked Dmitri as he took a different route, away from my dorm. We had just finished lunch at a little Italian place in the Village, and I’d assumed he was taking me home to get ready. Dmitri glanced at me, a smile playing on his lips. “You’ll see?”
“You’re always so mysterious,” I teased.
“You love it.”
I did. I really did.
When we pulled up in front of an elegant boutique in Midtown—the kind of place with a single dress in the window and no visible price tags—my breath caught.
“Dmitri... what are we doing here?”
