No explanation. No softening. No label.
His father’s eyes narrow a fraction, like the lack of details tells him more than a full introduction would have.
His mother is still studying me. Not rudely.Intently.Like she’s searching my face for something specific and not finding it.
The other woman speaks.
She’s graceful about it, but there’s hesitation in her voice. She looks between Maksim and me, and her smile—when it comes, is small, strained, but real enough to feel different from the rest of the room.
“Welcome,” she says softly.
“Thank you,” I answer.
I don’t know why I lower my voice too.
Maybe because she feels like the only person in this room who isn’t trying to win something.
Or maybe because Maksim has gone even more still beside me, and it’s making the hair at the back of my neck lift.
His father leans back in the chair. “I expected you alone.”
Maksim’s expression doesn’t change. “I know.”
“Yet you brought company.”
“She goes where I go.”
The words hit the room like a challenge.
His father’s gaze sharpens. Maksim’s mother looks away first.
The other woman stands and goes to Maksim’s mother, their hands meeting immediately.
I glance at Maksim.
His face gives me nothing, but fury is pouring off him now. Dense. Radiating heat through frozen glass. I can feel it in the space between us, in the way his shoulders lock, in the way his fingers flex once at his sides like they miss having a weapon in them.
This isn’t just family tension.
This is something older.
Somethingrotting.
His father’s mouth curves faintly. “How serious of you.”
Maksim finally steps forward. Not much. Just enough to make the movement feel deliberate.
Every instinct in me sharpens.
“If you have something to say,” he says, voice low, “say it.”
The room goes quiet enough for the fire to sound loud.
His mother inhales softly, almost inaudible. A warning maybe. Or a plea. Hard to tell.
His father unfolds slowly from the chair and comes to his feet.
Tall.
