I press my fingers to my lips, trying to remember.
The sensations felt so vivid, so tangible.
But I’ve been having such intense dreams lately, the pregnancy hormones making everything feel heightened and surreal.
I can’t trust my own memories anymore.
The bathroom door opens and Elena enters with fresh towels, her blue eyes immediately finding mine in the mirror. “Mrs. Artyomov. You’re awake.”
“Did Mikhail come home last night?” The question comes out more desperate than I intend.
Something flickers across Elena’s face. Sympathy, maybe. Or pity. “He did, very late.”
So maybe it was real. Maybe he did make love to me. But he also missed the dinner I’d prepared, the effort I’d made to reconnect with him.
And now he’s locked himself away in his office, probably dealing with whatever crisis demands his attention today.
I turn away from the mirror, unable to look at my own reflection anymore. “Thank you, Elena.”
She sets down the towels and moves closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He saw the dinner, Mrs. Artyomov. I know he did. I saw him standing in the dining room doorway this morning, just staring at the table.”
The information should comfort me, but it doesn’t. He saw what I’d done for him and said nothing. Didn’t wake me to apologize or explain.
Just retreated to his office like he always does when emotions get too complicated.
After Elena leaves, I shower and dress in comfortable clothes, a loose sweater and leggings that accommodate my growing belly.The baby bump is small but undeniable. I rest my hand over it, feeling the slight swell beneath my palm.
“Your father is an idiot,” I whisper to the baby. “But I love him anyway.”
The morning drags by with excruciating slowness.
By noon, I’m climbing the walls.
The compound feels smaller every day, the beautiful rooms transforming into a gilded cage.
I need to get out.
Need to see something other than these walls and the guards who shadow my every move.
I need to see my husband.
An idea forms slowly, dangerously. Mikhail’s office. His legitimate business front downtown.
I could surprise him there, remind him that I exist outside of his carefully controlled environment.
Maybe if I show up in his world, he’ll remember why he married me in the first place.
It’s a terrible idea.
Mikhail has strict rules about me leaving the compound without proper security.
But those rules are suffocating me, and I’m tired of being treated like a fragile piece of glass.
I find Elena in the kitchen, preparing lunch. She takes one look at my face and shakes her head. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“You want to leave the compound.” She sets down the knife she’s been using to chop vegetables. “Mrs. Artyomov, please. Mr. Artyomov will be furious if you go without security.”
