I hesitated for a bit, but there was no one else I could discuss things like this with now that Yulia was no longer here. “May I ask you something?”
She bobbed her head. “Certainly.”
“How did you fall in love with Damian?”
She blinked, then looked out over the garden. “Slowly. And then all at once.”
“That’s not going to help me,” I said with a tiny smile.
“It’s the truth. At first, I thought he was cold, dangerous, and arrogant. Then I started noticing the other things—the quiet things, the things he did when no one was watching.”
I looked down at my glass. “I think I’m drawn to Matvey.”
I’m pregnant too,but I didn’t add that. No one else could know until I told Matvey.
Elena didn’t respond right away, She thought for a moment. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I didn’t want to be.” I sighed. “I wanted to hate him.”
“None of us do. But you’re already all the way in, aren’t you?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, we’re married already. I don’t have a choice anymore, do I?”
“Zoella,” she said softly. “You owe no one your heart. But if you do care about him, if you genuinely feel like he’s the one for you, don’t waste a second pretending like you don’t. The world we’re living in already takes enough from us.”
I stared up quietly at the crescent moon sitting alone in the sky. I had nothing to say or argue.
Because she was right.
If I cared for Matvey and he did the same for me, then maybe the life I wanted wasn’t so out of reach as I thought.
Chapter 14 – Matvey
The night’s coolness bit at my skin. The scent of cigar smoke and jasmine lingered faintly beneath the darker weight of oak trees and distant sea salt carried by the breeze.
Beyond the hedges, the sound of the party became indistinct—laughter muffled, the odd clinking of crystal glasses, strings playing something sophisticated that no one was truly listening to.
I settled back into one of the wrought iron chairs in Damian’s garden, a glass of whiskey cupped in my hand. The ice had melted for the most part, but the liquor was still cold, sharp enough to keep my head clear.
Damian dropped into the chair across from me, legs outstretched, one ankle sloping lazily over the other. His own glass swirled in his hand, untouched for the time being.
We didn’t talk for a moment.
No need to.
Silence between men like us wasn’t awkward. It was understood. Mutual. Sometimes, the only pure honesty you could share.
He was the one who finally broke it, a low laugh raking his throat. “Small world, isn’t it?” His tone was casual, but there was a knowing tilt to it. “Your girl and Elena. Funny how life ties things up.”
I didn’t speak at first. Just exhaled through my nose and took a sip, the burn flowing down my throat.
The corner of my mouth lifted a little. “Not life. Control. Someone’s always tying the knots.”
He nodded once, his lips curving. “Still, it suits you. You’ve changed.”
I didn’t ask how. He wouldn’t say. Instead, he leaned again, his voice dropping lower. “Have you found out whatexactly happened to Yulia? You’re married to Zoella. She might be curious about why and how her sister died.”
The mention of her name still cut as deep as it did the night she died. It sliced through the silence, carving into something primal beneath my ribs.
