Only two hours of sleep, courtesy of the alarm clock’s merciless shriek. My body is heavy with fatigue, and it’s all I can do not to just collapse right here and now. It’s a laughable situation, really. An adult woman, supposedly a caretaker, and here I am, more tired than the eight-year-old I’m supposed to be taking care of.
I watch Yulia and Miss Katya dive back into their number games, but my mind is elsewhere. It’s stuck on last night, replaying scenes with Luka like a broken record. His touch. His eyes. A sensory overload that’s branded itself onto every inch of my skin.
The look on Luka’s face, the tenderness with which he held me, it all hinted at a trust that felt so genuine, so real. But if he knew why I was really here…
Guilt gnaws at the pit of my stomach, a constant reminder of the lines I’ve blurred, of the boundaries I’ve crossed. And then, another thought surfaces, unsettling me further – I haven’t heard from Aleks yet.
Fuck! This mission, this mess… It’s all his doing.
Luka. Just thinking about him sends a shiver down my spine. The memory of last night has my heart pounding in my chest.
What happened last night… It was wrong, so wrong.
But God, it felt so right.
Then came his panic. He came inside me, and reality hit him like a freight train. That look in his eyes was pure horror. It was something I hadn’t expected. Then a pang of guilt hit me hard. It wasn’t just about the sex. It was something else. Something I hadn’t told him.
I can’t get pregnant. Not since the accident. The one that took my parents.
Why didn’t I tell him?
Because it wouldn’t have made a difference, that’s why. This isn’t a man I’m planning a future with. Isn’t a man who would care about not being able to have a family with me.
Yesterday was a mistake. A big, fat mistake.
“Ahhhh-haaaaaa!” All of a sudden, Yulia interrupts the rhythm of the math lesson and my own tangled train of thought. Her yawn, an echo of my own fatigue, pulls me back into the reality of the day. Without my consent, a matching yawn pushes past my lips. The lesson comes to a halt as both Yulia and Miss Katya swivel their attention to me, surprised faces morphing into amusement.
“Gotcha!” Yulia declares, pointing at me triumphantly. “Sophia’s sleepy too!”
“Looks like I am,” I concede, returning Yulia’s cheeky grin. The weight of my tiredness is a vivid reminder of the twists and turns my life has taken.
“Did you girls have a late night?” Miss Katya asks, her voice a mix of curiosity and empathy.
I steal a glance at Yulia; a blush is blooming across her cheeks. “We might’ve readBeauty and the Beasttwice,” I admit, feeling a laugh bubble up.
Miss Katya’s eyes twinkle, not with judgment, but with genuine delight. “That’s a delightful tale. Everyone deserves a late night now and then.” She turns back to Yulia, who perks up at her understanding.
“Yes,” says Yulia eagerly, “and we all also made star-shaped pizzas last night – Luka, Dima, Erik, Max, Sophia, and me. Luka said he’d eat with me, but…he had to leave early.” Her voice trails off, a hint of sadness clouding her face.
“Malyška…”
Luka’s voice, heavy with an all-too-familiar charm, breaks the tranquility of our classroom, each syllable strumming on a chord deep within my heart. His presence is commanding, a power that charges the air around us, impossible to dismiss.
Luka leans against the doorway, fitting snugly in its frame as if it’s been custom-built just for him. His white tee clings casually to his sculpted form, the fabric stretched across the broad expanse of his chest, effortlessly defining the muscles beneath. The outline of his biceps is striking, a display of strength not meant for intimidation but as a testament to countless hours of dedication at the gym.
My eyes are drawn lower to the lean muscularity of his legs, evident in the fit of his joggers, their casual appearance belying the intensity of a recent workout. A shadow of stubble adds a deliberate roughness to his appearance, hinting at a raw edge beneath the polished surface.
God, how is he so freaking gorgeous?
A hint of his aftershave lingers, a fresh and subtle scent that paints a vivid picture – of a hot shower washing away sweat, of grooming, of Luka preparing for the day. It’s intoxicating, a scent that I could drown in, a scent that stirs something within me, a dangerous mix of dread and desire.
Stop it, stop it, stop it, Sophia.
I wish my stupid heart would stop hammering away in my chest.
Remember why you’re here. Remember who he is.
“I thought I’d drop in on Yulia’s study time,” he announces, that slight Russian accent rolling off his tongue in a way that’s unfairly appealing. He flicks a look at me, a barely-there connection, sparking a thousand unspoken words, a thousand what-ifs.
