42. Katya
42
KATYA
“ I t’s been five hours,” I murmur, barely holding back the frustration and anxiety clawing at my chest. “How much longer will it take?”
“It’s a complex procedure,” Igor reminds me. His words are steady but lined with the tension I know he’s trying to hide. The sharp angle of his jaw gives him away. “They’re putting the implant directly on the brainstem’s surface. We should be glad they’re not rushing.”
He’s right, of course. I know he’s just repeating what the doctors told us, trying to reassure me, but the logic doesn’t settle my nerves. My hands won’t stop trembling, and the relentless tick-tock of the waiting room clock feels like a cruel taunt. Until I see Sofiya with my own eyes, until I know for certain that she’s okay, I won’t be able to breathe.
“You’ll see Sofiya soon,” Igor says, reaching over to rub slow, calming circles on my back. “We just have to give the doctors the time they need. Evangeline Tolliver is the best specialist in the world. This is her playground. Trust her to do her job.”
“Evangeline,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Her parents must have named her that just so she could be a pompous ass her whole life.”
Igor lets out a sudden, uncontrollable laugh that startles a few heads in the sterile waiting room. The sound bursts from him, so genuine and full of life, and despite the suffocating weight of worry pressing on me, I can’t stop myself from joining in. Our laughter echoes off the blank walls of the hospital, startling a few curious glances from other waiting families.
For the first time in hours, I feel the smallest crack in the fear that’s been weighing on me. His laughter is infectious, like the first drop of rain after a drought. It’s tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a promise of what’s to come. A reminder that there’s still life waiting for us, shining out from the brilliant blue of his eyes.
“Do you want some coffee while we wait?” Igor asks, rising from his chair.
I nod, watching as he walks over to the corner of the room where a modest coffee station is tucked away. My gaze lingers on him, on the broad lines of his back and the way his jeans hug him just right. Despite the circumstances, my lips curl into a small smile.
Since we’ve confessed our feelings for each other, it’s like my desire for him has been unleashed, a balloon stretched to bursting. The man who was once forbidden is now mine, and every time I look at him, the reality of it catches me off guard. Being with Igor, building a life with him—it’s a dream. Every morning I wake up beside him, I’m reminded that dreams can come true.
My phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Vasiliy,” I answer, leaning back in my chair. “Everything okay?”
“Is she out yet?” he asks. The sound of barking dogs echoes in the background.
“Not yet. Igor’s getting us some coffee, and then we’ll check in with the doctors,” I say, glancing across the room as Igor walks back toward me, two steaming mugs in hand. “How was your flight?”
“Too long.” He sighs heavily. “I still don’t understand why you and Nikolai insist on living so far from Moscow. It takes forever to get back.”
His words carry their usual gruff annoyance, but beneath it, I can hear the relief coming through. Things have finally calmed.
“You’re the last Volkov who still swears by Russia,” I tease, smiling. “You should try to embrace the USA.”
“I really don’t want to,” Vasiliy replies with a chuckle, but there’s a weariness there that I don’t miss.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my stomach twisting.
The silence on the other end stretches so long I almost think the call dropped.
“I crossed the line,” Vasiliy finally says, and the weight of his words makes my chest tighten.
“What line?” I press, catching Igor’s raised eyebrows as I accept the mug he offers me.
“The only one my job had,” he says bitterly. “I’ve been called in to speak with the president. Do you know what that means?”
“No,” I say slowly.
“It means I’m getting fired,” Vasiliy states flatly. “The president is the only one with the authority to fire me, and he’s going to do it.”
“You don’t know that,” I argue. “Maybe you’ll get a promotion.”
Vasiliy laughs, dry and humorless. “No, Katya. That’s not how it works here.”
“But why are they firing you?”
“Remember your last court case in Moscow?” he asks.
“Of course,” I reply, though I don’t see how it’s relevant. It ended in a mistrial—Igor’s men walked free, awaiting a new trial.
“I made sure the evidence disappeared,” Vasiliy admits, his tone steady and sharp. “I crossed the line to help you and the punk you call your baby daddy. It was a split-second decision, but I wouldn’t change it. I just want you to know that.”
I don’t know what to say. The weight of his words hits me hard, and I sit there, stunned.
“Tell your boyfriend to keep his men in line next time,” Vasiliy adds, “and not to be so obvious when breaking the law.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.
“Don’t say anything,” he replies firmly. “I’ll protect you, Katya. You and Nikolai. Always. I’m your older brother. It’s my job. Just… make sure New York is as nice as you and Nikolai say it is because I might not have a choice but to move there myself.”
A soft laugh escapes me despite the knot in my throat. “I love you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“Love you too, sestra ,” he says quietly. “Let me know when Sofiya’s out.”
“Will do.”
As I hang up, Igor’s eyes meet mine.
“Vasiliy’s being discharged,” I tell him, then explain what my brother confessed.
Igor blinks, looking genuinely surprised. “I didn’t expect him to do something like that. Not for me.”
I smile softly. “It’s official now. You’re part of the family. This is Vasiliy’s way of welcoming you into the fold.”
Before Igor can respond, Dr. Tolliver strides into the waiting room. Her scrubs are wrinkled, and her eyes look tired, but the smile on her face is reassuring.
I leap to my feet, practically sprinting toward her. “How did it go? How’s Sofiya?”
“Perfect,” she says with a small but confident smile. “Everything went as planned. There were no complications, and we were able to correctly position the implant. She’s doing great.”
Relief floods me, and my knees almost give out.
“Can we see her?” Igor asks, stepping up beside me and sliding a comforting hand around my waist.
Dr. Tolliver nods. “She’s in recovery. She’ll wake up soon, though she might be a little drowsy. Go ahead.”
Igor whispers, “Let’s go,” and I let him guide me down the hallway to Sofiya’s room.
The moment I see her, my heart swells. She looks so small and fragile against the pillows, her face pale but peaceful. Her tiny hand twitches as we approach, and I clasp it in mine, feeling her warmth ground me.
“Hi, malyshka ,” Igor murmurs, brushing his fingers through her hair.
Sofiya’s eyes flutter open, and when they land on Igor, her lips curl into a tired but unmistakable grin.
“Papa,” she whispers, her voice soft and full of wonder.
The word sends a jolt of warmth straight to my heart.
Igor leans forward, resting his forehead against hers. I reach out to touch his arm, not wanting to miss a second of this moment.
“We’re here,” I whisper. “We’ll always be here.”
Sofiya’s drowsy smile grows brighter, and I realize, for the first time in forever, I can truly breathe.