Swimming centers me. It rewards me with the ability to gather my bases while also suffocating emotions that shouldn’t be surfacing as fast as they are.
I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. The past few months have been a heartbreaking whirlwind of compromises and tough decision-making. The weight of their burden would inevitably take a toll on me. I just wish my breakdown wasn’t occurring in front of the person who only needs to smirk to make them seem inconsequential.
This marriage, though necessary more than I’ll ever fully comprehend, has added layers of complexity to feelings I hadn’t anticipated handling again anytime in the next five decades.
The pressure to uphold our agreement and the tension it is causing between Mikhail and me are draining.
In the water, I can let go of the facade I must maintain to protect my feelings.
Here, I can be vulnerable, even if only for a short while.
Swimming allows me to breathe while also reminding me that matters could be far worse. I could be married to an overweight Bratva boss with a hairless head and a like for underaged mistresses.
A memory of me saying that exact thing to Mikhail when he complained about his family lineage makes me smile—and has me taking in a mouthful of water.
I cough and splatter more than I breathe during my final lap.
When I reach the edge of the pool, I pull myself out. Warm water cascades off my body in shimmering droplets as I tiptoe across the freezing tiles to fetch a towel. I can’t catch my breath while wrapping the soft cotton around myself. The air is nippy and has nothing to do with the icy stare from a second-story window above the pool.
I noticed Mikhail’s watch several minutes ago, but I was too focused on managing my stress levels to determine whether his glare stemmed from admiration or concern.
It could be a combination of both. I have a hard time understanding my whiplash moods, so I can’t expect anyone else to decipher them without being lumped with a heap of confusion.
Losing my first love left a gaping hole in my heart, and although I hate how heartless it has made me, not knowing the cause of its abrupt ending is more loathsome.
Everything seemed perfect. Our love was exciting and fresh, even after three years. We were inseparable, sharing dreams and plotting ways to make them happen, believing that nothing could ever come between us. Now, pain and confusion taint those memories.
There were no arguments, misunderstandings, or hurtful words.
We were in love, then nothing.
It was gone.
I hate how much power our memories have over me and how they consume my thoughts and fuel my wish for revenge, but no matter how much I try to distract myself, nothing works.
Every time I look at Mikhail, the anger is right there, simmering beneath the surface, ready to explode. But that isn’t the sole emotion I feel.
Being here with him is like traveling back ten years.
The fear of losing him again and returning to a lonely existence overshadows the joy of finding my soulmate again.
Our separation has drastically altered me to the point I feel like a stranger. I’ve tried to move on from it several times, but the pain is too deep and the heartbreak is too devastating.
Bitterness and resentment trapped me in a cycle I couldn’t escape. Then, the only man capable of making me feel whole again showed up out of nowhere with an outrageous plan and an even more devastatingly handsome face.
This pains me to admit, but I would have given up years ago if I didn’t have so many people relying on me.
Alas, being wanted sometimes is a burden even more than being disregarded.
I need to find a way past the anger and relish the opportunities Andrik Sr.’s sick game will reward me with. It’ll be difficult, but I can’t continue to let my past define my future. I must rise above my misery and reclaim my happiness.
It’s hard to imagine when the very essence of my happiness is within touching distance, yet so distant.
Even while giving each other the silent treatment, Mikhail and I exchanged more words back then than we have over the past twenty-four hours.
It could be worse.
He could have failed to show up for a second time.
