I tell her about the rose, the footsteps, and recall the cologne and previous text message, revealing my growing suspicion Alex might have found me. She listens without interrupting, her expression growing more concerned with each detail.
“The cologne from the café, the footsteps, and now this.” I twist my hands together. “It could all be coincidence, but...”
“But you don’t think it is.”
“No. I don’t think it is.” I look at her, seeing my own fear reflected in her eyes. “I think he’s here, Nina. I think he’s been watching me.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, processing what I’ve told her. When she speaks, her voice is slow and careful. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell Yarik after the engagement, and the end of our fling. Besides, what would I say? I think my ex-boyfriend might be stalking me? I need protection from a man who might not even be here?”
“He’d probably help.”
“Maybe, but only out of obligation. I don’t want him to do anything from obligation.”
Nina studies my face. “And the pregnancy?”
I ignore what she’s asking—do I want him to do something to help me with the baby even if it’s just out of obligation—to focus on the pregnancy itself. “I have maybe three more weeks before someone notices. I can get away with looser clothes while working, but I won’t be able to hide my stomach from Yarik much longer.”
“You still haven’t decided what to tell him?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to tell Yarik about the baby if it’s just to force him to end his engagement. I don’t want to be that woman who uses a pregnancy as leverage. If he chooses me, I want it to be because he wants me, not because he feels obligated.”
She frowns, clearly not fully in agreement. “There’s child support…” She trails off before adding, “You’ll let him off the hook even if it means handling Alex alone?”
I stiffen at the way she words that. “Our affair is over, Nina. He’s engaged to Katya, and that’s how it has to stay. I can’t drag him into this mess.”
She doesn’t argue with me, but I see the worry in her eyes. She gets up from the table and disappears into her bedroom. When she returns, she’s carrying a small can of pepper spray and a thin, sharp blade that looks like it could easily be concealed. “Just in case,” she says quietly, setting them in front of me. “Don’t wait until you wish you had them.”
I stare at the weapons, my throat tight. The pepper spray is small enough to fit in my purse, and the blade has a small clip that looks like it could attach to the inside of my bra or jacket seam. “Nina...”
“Promise me you’ll carry them.”
I nod, pocketing both items with hands that won’t stop shaking. “I promise.”
She doesn’t say anything else as she pulls me into a hug that relays everything words can’t. Outside, the rain starts up again, pattering against the windows like fingers tapping. Like someone trying to get in. The thought makes me tremble for a second.
That night, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, one hand resting on my still-flat stomach. Yarik’s baby is growing inside me, and every day I don’t tell him feels like a betrayal, but every day I don’t tell him also feels like protection for him, me, and the fragile life I’m carrying.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but all I can see is that perfect red rose, waiting for me on the bench. It might be nothing, or it might be everything.
Three more weeks, I tell myself. I just need three more weeks to figure out what to do about the baby. I’m going to keep it, but I need a plan for how, and I need to decide if I’m going to tell Yarik. If our affair is really over, as it seems to be, and with him engaged, I don’t see how I can tell him now or in three weeks. Three weeks feels like a lie and a luxury all at once, because time is running out faster than I want to admit.
Everything is bearing down on me and coming to a head—and somewhere in the darkness, Alex might be waiting.
14
Yarik
My phone has been buzzing since six in the morning. Leonid’s name flashes across the screen for the third time in an hour, followed immediately by a text from Katya asking about the contract signing. I ignore both and continue getting dressed.
The engagement feels like a noose tightening around my neck. Every day I don’t sign that contract, the Nikitins grow more suspicious and more demanding. Every day I do nothing, I’m one step closer to a war I don’t want to fight but might have to anyway to ensure my freedom and a chance at being happy. It feels selfish in a way to contemplate such things, but I’m tired of living the life of thepakhan, denied happiness or love because of obligations.
I pull on my jacket and check my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes reveal the sleepless nights, the constant planning, and the burden of decisions I keep postponing. The man staring back at me looks tired. Hunted.
My phone buzzes again. This time it’s a text from Katya:Father expects the contract signed today. No more delays.
I delete the message without responding.
