Chapter 7
Elen’s POV
The doctor found me in the corridor just as I stepped out of the waiting room, my heart clenched right in my chest. He looked calm, professional, but his gaze was softer than before.
“Miss Kovalyova,” he said, removing his surgical cap. The surgery was successful. Your mother is out of danger for now, but she’ll remain under observation through the night.”
Relief surged through me so violently I nearly staggered.
“Thank you,” I breathed. Thank you so much.”
He nodded with a reassuring smile before heading off, and I pushed open the door to the private room where my mother now lay sleeping.
She looked so fragile, tucked beneath the hospital sheets, her blonde hair streaked with silver fanned out across the pillow. Her face–once full of life, laughter, sarcasm–way now pale, lined with the exhaustion of years she never got to rest. The machines beeped in rhythm with her heartbeat, and the scent of antiseptic couldn’t completely cover the familiar warmth she carried with her everywhere. She smelled like home. Like dad.
leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her skin was cool, soft. The tears came before I could stop them. Hot, messy, ugly. I sat beside her and Jet it out, letting my body fold forward as I cried into the crook of my arm.
“I can’t believe this! I whispered with a bitter scoff, wiping at my eyes. “You’ll kill me when you wake up and find out that I’m married,”
I looked down at her face again, her expression peaceful
“But I know you’ll forgive me. Eventually.”
With one last kiss on her temple, I stood and checked my phone
up with a call right then, surprising Inc.
Nikolai
1 hesitated. Then answered
“Good evening. Malishka,” came his smooth voice, a hint of amusement threading through the words. I could practically bear his smirk. It was strange–he wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d imagined cold, stoic, maybe a bit of a tyrant. But he had a warmth to him, a mischievousness that seemed carved into his DNA. Not childish like Dmitri. Something older. Smoother, Like he’d seen too much but chose to be amused by it instead of bitter.
I shook myself from the thought.
This is contractual. Transactional. Stop reading too much into things I’ve only known him for a couple hours and I’m already like this?
“Good evening,” I replied, softer than intended.
There was a pause, Then, “Have you been crying?”
I stiffened, surprised that he noticed. A breathless laugh escaped me. “Should I be laughing instead? Celebrating?
After all, wasn’t it ridiculous! That all of this had happened in less than forty–eight hours?
He didn’t answer that, just said, “Your mother will be fine.”
A lump lodged in my throat. “Will she really! The love of her life just died yesterday, you know?”
My voice cracked, raw and broken. I hadn’t dared say it aloud until now. But there it was. The guit. The question. Had I been selfish clinging to her when maybe she wanted to go be with dad?
Nikolai cleared his throat, and his tone shifted, slightly awkward. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I could tell he didn’t say things like that often
And once again, the image I had built of him over the years–this untouchable, steel–hearted CEO–Bickered Cracked.
I wondered, did he even cry when his mother died! Would he cry if his father died
Probably not if his father did. He seemed to have this steely sort of look in his eyes every time he glanced at him. I wouldn’t blame him though. after all he may be a father, but he wasn’t a dad,
1/2
“Do you want to reschedule this for another day?” he finally asked.
“Weren’t you the one who said, and I quote. The early bird catches the worm?” I teased, just barely.
A sigh on the other end: “Well, firstly, you didn’t let me finish that line. Secondly. Tapologize if I rushed you.”
No.” I said after a moment. “Let’s do it now.
He paused. I could hear the shift in his breathing.
“Alright. Thank you,” I replied, the word’s catching in my throat
That thanks
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