Then there’s Kostya. He introduced me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, the room spinning gently around me.
“My dad introduced me to Kostya,” I say, trying to make my brain catch up with the truth. Andrei doesn’t interrupt me. “That wasn’t coincidence, was it?”
“Probably not,” he replies simply.
Betrayal stabs me in the chest. I think of every time my father told me he wanted me to be safe with a good man. He was so relieved to see me settled and married. I remember how much he encouraged a match between Kostya and me, always gently encouraging me to give him a shot when I wasn’t sure.
“He didn’t tell me,” I whisper.
“He was protecting you,” Andrei says.
“By lying to me?”
“By keeping you out of it,” he corrects.
I laugh weakly. “Well, that’s worked out well for him.”
Silence stretches between us again, thicker this time. My hands start to shake. I tuck them beneath my thighs, pressing downhard, grounding myself in the physical reality of the couch, the room, the man standing in front of me.
“My dad always told me he was a dock worker,” I say, my voice fading until it’s almost impossible for me to even hear myself. “That he unloaded ships and goods.”
“None of that was a lie,” Andrei says softly. “He just didn’t want you to know about the criminal element.”
The words echo in my head, bouncing around without settling.
“This is all too much,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says. “But we’re going to figure this out. The first thing is making you safe.”
“You’re offering protection,” I say slowly. “Because of my dad.”
“Yes,” he answers. “He’s my responsibility, and therefore you’re my responsibility.”
The anger drains out of me all at once, leaving something hollow and shaky behind.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I say.
“That’s understandable,” Andrei replies. “You don’t have to understand everything tonight.”
“I don’t want to be part of this,” I say weakly.
“You already are, unfortunately,” he says. “You just didn’t know it. Now you do. Knowledge is power.”
The fight drains out of me all at once, leaving me hollowed out and raw. I don’t have the energy to be angry anymore. I don’t have the strength to demand explanations or insist onautonomy. Everything hurts, from my temples to my chest to the place deep in my gut where humiliation lives.
I trusted Kostya.
I trusted my father.
Somehow, I trusted Andrei, too, if only because he was straight with me from the start. I knew exactly who he was when I saw him on that elevator. He’s never had any reason to lie to me. Not even now.
I press my fingers to my forehead, breathing slowly, trying to keep myself from tipping into something ugly and hysterical. The world feels unreal, like I’m watching it through thick glass.
I can deal with this tomorrow,I tell myself. I can scream and cry and demand answers when I’m sober and rested. Right now, I just need the world to stop spinning.
“I need some water and aspirin,” I nearly groan. “And sleep.”
