Right now, Timur is just as broken as I am. Niko was his best friend. His partner in business. They grew up together, have known each other since they were small children.
Not many words were exchanged.
Sophia wrapped her arms around me as soon as I stepped inside their house, but it didn’t really help, especially when she welcomed me into to the living area, the room we were in when Niko and I announced the gender of our baby. The same space where Sophia was teasing me as I was starting to admit my growing feelings for Nikolai.
I walked in, took one look at the couch where we were giggling like teenagers experiencing love for the first time, before I rushed to the bathroom, vomiting. That only brought on another memory—Niko coming up behind me to cool me down with a wet cloth during morning sickness.
His arms…
Those eyes…
His gentleness…
All of it gone.
Forever.
We all ate our food in silence that night, each of us picking at small pieces. I didn’t have an appetite. I was only feeding the baby. Sophia and Timur didn’t eat much either. They wanted meto stay the night for company, for a sense of comfort, but all I have wanted these past two weeks is to be alone.
I can still hear those two gunshots.
They ring again and again in an endless loop.
I want to forget, but I can’t—the baby has started kicking. I place a hand on my stomach each time she does and end up sobbing, tears wetting my face like waterworks, because her father isn’t here to place his hand over mine.
I’m experiencing the baby’s first kicks… alone.
What’s worse is that I imagine him with me still—it’s the only thing that brings me comfort, easing the painful ache in my chest, where the remains of my broken heart are supposed to be. But there’s only a gaping hole there.
I imagine him sleeping beside me at night, his arm resting on my lower back. I imagine myself lying on his impossibly broad chest, falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart; him behind me, smiling as he feels our child growing in my belly.
But the silence rings loud. Sometimes, it screams in my ears like it’s waking me up, shocking me back to the reality I so desperately want to escape from.
I continue staring into space, feeling numb.
What about when it’s time to give birth? I want Nikolai there, squeezing my hand, giving me words of affirmation. I want to see him hold our daughter close to his chest for the first time. I want to capture the look on his face. I don’t even have Mom here for guidance. The only people I have left are Sophia and Timur.
I snap myself out of it, suddenly shaking myself.
Come on, Lauren, stay strong.
You must be strong for your baby!
Easier said than done, especially when your mind has so much power over you. It’s still a struggle to wrap my head around the intensity of everything that happened. Betweentrying to grieve Nikolai and trying to piece myself back together, I still find it difficult to understand what went down between him, Aslanov, and my father. All I know is that he was right all along. He told me that I didn’t know what I was up against. I thought it was just an empty threat. My own stubborn ignorance convinced me to believe that he was only saying that because he didn’t want to see his own empire burn. Now I know that he was trying to look out for me this entire time.
It’s my fault he got killed.
It is all my fault, and the guilt is eating me alive.
BANG!
BANG!
I can still hear those shots.
The ringing in my ears has never subsided.
But this time around it’s not the sadness that’s choking me the most. It’s guilt. He sacrificed his life to save mine and his unborn daughter’s. All because of my stupid stubbornness and my relentless nature, he will never get to meet his daughter.
