Not the fear. Not the danger. I understand those. I’ve lived with them long enough to know how to carry them without breaking.
It’s the stillness I can’t stand.
The waiting.
The not knowing.
Out there, everything is happening. Decisions. Movement. Blood. Victory or loss being carved out in real time.
And I’m here.
Still.
Waiting.
A slow breath leaves me as I force myself to sit back, to ground my thoughts before they spiral.
He was right.
This isn’t just about me anymore.
My hand drifts unconsciously to my stomach, resting there for a moment longer than necessary.
There’s more at stake now. More to lose.
That changes things.
It has to.
So I stay.
Even when every instinct in me screams to move. To fight. To go out there and stand beside him instead of sitting in this silence, listening to the war from a distance.
I’m hoping and praying to any god who will hear me that Timofey comes knocking soon. I’m almost past my breaking point.
Suddenly, glass shatters.
This doesn’t come from a distance. It’s too close. It’s here. I whip my head toward the sound just as the window explodes inward, shards scattering across the floor in a violent spray. The curtains whip wildly in the sudden rush of air.
A figure climbs through.
Masked. Armed. Fast.
My body reacts before my mind fully catches up. I’m already on my feet, already raising the gun, finger tightening on the trigger—
“Don’t,” he says.
The voice hits first.
Then the mask comes off.
Everything inside me goes cold.
Anton.
My cousin’s face comes into full view, that same familiar smirk curling at the edge of his mouth like nothing has changed.Like we’re not standing in the middle of a war he started. Like he didn’t just break into my room. Like he didn’t threaten me and my child!
A chill runs down my spine, but my hand doesn’t shake.
