Even with my enemies looming over me, I wasn’t willing to get plastic surgery to disappear into the crowd. And Victor? He might be still riding the adrenaline after the attack, but once the bandages come off, how will he really feel about me?
“Let’s see my face,” I tell him, steadying my voice.
I know it must be bad the second he looks alarmed. “Oh no… you don’t need to stress out. It’s bad before it gets better. I’m sure you know that about burns. You’re all swollen, babe. I read up a lot about it in the past days. We had the right stuff in the first aid box, so it should heal well over time.”
“I want to see. I want us both to see my new ugly face. Maybe that’ll scare you off.”
Victor stalls but strokes my knee anyway. “Why do you want to scare me off? Did I do something wrong? You told me not to take you to the hospital.”
I shut my eyes, imagining my life without him. Like before but worse, not just because of how weak I now am, but because having his sunshine presence taken away would make solitude infinitely worse.
He deserves better.
I’ve lived selfishly my whole life, but this one time, someone else’s happiness feels more important.
“You should go. I trust you to not talk to the police. I have cash. You could take it with you and start a new life. Maybe go to art school?”
Victor’s lips tremble as though he’s about to cry, and I hate to see it when all I want to do is hold him, but I can’t even do that, because I’m aching all over.
“Don’t do this, Seva. Please. I’m more capable than you think. I can take care of you. I’ll make you pelmeni, I’ll fix the house, and I’ll kill fucking assassins if I have to. Don’t underestimate me or my love for you. It’s selfless and wants nothing in return.”
I didn’t even cry when my mother died. At the time, it seemed inevitable, and the only thing in my heart was that she wouldn’t have to suffer from her illness any longer. But the tears in Victor’s eyes break something in me, and fat, hot droplets roll down my cheeks again. I’ve been on my own for so long, with no one to care for me, I find it difficult to imagine he wants to stand at my side.
“I don’t want to entrap you.”
Victor takes a deep breath and sits down to hug my leg. When he kisses my knee, another sob tears out of my aching chest. He’s the purest fucking person I’ve ever known.
“You’re not. I’m exactly where I want to be.”
It’s wrong. He must be out of his mind to stay with me here.
But I’m not good like him, so I won’t force him out. I’ll take what he wants to give even if I know he deserves better than what’s under my bandages.
Chapter 21
Victor
6weekslater
I’ve never been challenged the way the last weeks have tested me, but it’s proved to me that I’m stronger than I imagined. I wasn’t so sure when I was promising it all to Seva, but he was in no state for uncertainty. He needed a rock, and I made the decision to be one for him.
It’s surprising even to me that I’ve managed to step up to the challenge. Maybe I was the one underestimating myself. Maybe I can be more than I ever dared to dream.
Of course I loved it when Seva doted on me, but when the roles got reversed, I felt no less love for him. If anything, my affection only took root, and is no longer a flimsy sand castle to be washed away with the first strong wave. I can now see myself always at his side and able to withstand any storm life throws at us.
I’ve never been more certain of anything. The damaged parts of the house are now mostly restored, but there were issues Seva had neglected and which he couldn’t deal with on his own. The men making repairs in the studio and at the main entrance broke his resolve tonever let in any visitors, so he agreed to let in a team of plumbers next, to make repairs in one wing of the house.
With how busy I was minding the workers, I’m glad we have a Sunday to ourselves at last. I can imagine Seva is happy too, since for once he doesn’t need to be confined to the panic room for most of the day. Still, while his physical condition improves each day, he remains moody and quiet in ways he wasn’t before.
I don’t even sleep in bed with him, and have a place on the floor instead, because touching his upper body can still be too agitating for him.
I return to the newly renovated studio with a pot of coffee, and see him by a fresh canvas. My heart leaps with hope, because he’d been only trying small-scale projects so far, but could this return to his favorite medium be a sign of true improvement?
He must have done the blue underpainting in the morning, while I was cooking, and now he’s dipping the tip of his brush into the dot of burnt sienna on his palette. I’m still bandaging his hands each day, but the treatments I’ve been implementing are working.
There were moments when I regretted not disobeying Seva and calling for an ambulance, but the day he got injured left me without any doubts about the danger to his life. It was either risking his health by treating him at home or putting him in a vulnerable position at the hospital. And I made the right call, regardless of the side-effects.
“Hungry?” I ask as I walk up to him with a sandwich. I’m still no great cook, but I’ve learned to make a few things for him. When he was finally able to chew with more ease, I made him the lazy dumplings with cinnamon, and they came out quite good.
