Chapter 24 - Bianca
It's a gray day, sun rays peeking out here and there amongst the angry looking clouds in the sky. The cemetery we arrived at is one on the east side of New York —one sprawling in size, with parts of it tucked away behind the growing greenery. Tall, ancient oak trees line the pathways like guardians, their branches stretching out like protective arms over the graves. Some tombstones look ancient, while others appear younger with fresh flowers and lit candles. Each grave marker tells a story, some dating back to the nineteenth century, and I can’t shake the melancholy feeling of knowing just how much love is buried in this place.
The air is crisp with the faint scent of petrichor and pine, a reminder of the recent rain. The grass is a vibrant green, meticulously maintained. Over the past few weeks, Aleksei acquainted me with Anya better. He showed me pictures of them when she was a kid, laughing without a care in the world, looking at her brothers as if they were her entire world. It’s striking how close I’ve grown to a person I never had the pleasure of knowing. It’s something I mourn constantly, knowing I’d have loved her the second I laid eyes on her.
When the sun decides to peek out, a gentle breeze rustles the leaves, adding a soft whispering soundtrack to the stillness of the cemetery. I tread carefully on the gravel winding through the cemetery, the crunch adding to the sound of the wind to create a soothing cacophony. There’s the occasional chirps from the treetops, betraying that despite being a place of the dead, the cemetery is very much alive.
Aleksei squeezes my hand gently, and I realize that we've reached our destination. It's a large, well-tended plot which you can tell has been loved greatly—the grave adorned with various flowers. I smile, noticing the hydrangeas. There are three names on the headstones, the first I notice being that of Anya Barkov, but a quick read of the rest reveals them to be Aleksei's parents.
I feel the weight of Aleksei's grief as he kneels, and I follow next to him, each of us placing a matching bouquet next to the existing ones. His pain is palpable, and it makes me feel for him, not being able to imagine the type of pain he’s in. I kneel beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and we share a moment of silence.
It's almost as if the wind is listening, picking up slightly, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the faint scent of flowers from nearby graves. I look around, trying to suppress the tears pricking up my eyes. Aleksei gets up first, offering his hand, which I accept. I want to tell him now, with Anya here. I look around awkwardly before deciding to bite the bullet.
“Aleksei, I have something for you. I thought you’d like to receive it with Anya present.” He looks startled for a moment, but his features soon morph into understanding. We’ve grown into a shared belief that Anya never left—that even dead, she’s around as Barkov’s guardian angel, always watching over us.
I take his hand and guide it to my stomach before looking into his brown orbs.
“We’re going to have a baby.” I struggle to get the words out, the tears of joy I can already feel streaming down my face, bringing with it the lump in my throat. He stays still, unmoving. Unbreathing, it seems too. Then his jaw falls open, a light appearing in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
He kisses me then, and I can feel the smile on his face when he does so. His forehead feels comforting against mine like it was meant to be there all along.
“I-I think this is the first time in my life I’m lost for words.” He stutters, causing my own smile to widen even more. Then his head snaps to the side, looking at the gravestone. “Did you hear that, Anya? You’ll be an aunt.” There’s so much glee in his voice that I almost combust from the warmth inside me. His hand finds its way to my stomach again, caressing it gently. “We’re going to have a baby.” He repeats the sentence several times as if to engrave it into his brain.
We stand there for a few minutes, basking in each other’s warmth. When a particularly cold gust of wind brushes by, Aleksei unwraps his limbs from me.
“We can’t have mom catch a cold now, can we.” He speaks in a sweet tone, and I almost melt at the feeling. We turn to leave, but just before we do, he turns around and whispers. “So long, Anya.”
We're almost at the edge of the cemetery when I notice a man standing by the entrance. It's almost like he's undecided if he wants to enter the cemetery or not, but when he turns, I recognize his features immediately.
It's Grigor.
He starts walking towards us, but I can tell his eyes are clouded over, probably lost in his thoughts. There's a furrow to his brow. And an expression I can't quite place, besides the fact that he just looks sad.
“Grigor!” Aleksei calls out softly.
Grigor looks up, surprise crosses his chocolate eyes. For a moment, there's an awkward silence, but then Grigor's gaze softens as it lands on me. He takes a deep breath, seemingly to gather his thoughts.
“Fancy meeting you guys here.” He jokes before clearing his throat. It’s a quirk I’m beginning to notice—how he tends to hide his sadness away behind humor. “Say, Aleksei, would it be okay if I took your wife to the side for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” Aleksei nods, walking a few paces ahead to give us some space.
“Grigor, I just wanted to say—“ I begin looking down at the gravel, unsure how I intend to finish the sentence. I need him to know I'm sorry—that happened was wrong, and that I never wished he'd been subjected to the things the guards put him through.
“No, Bianca.” He interjects, voice firm. “ I'm sorry. I never got to properly thank you for what you did. For saving me and Maksim. I misjudged you.”
His words catch me off guard, but I can sense that they’re genuine. He steps forward awkwardly, offering a small smile.
“Thank you, Grigor, but I just did what I had to. We're family now, after all, and we protect each other.”
He nods, his expression easing into a more comfortable smile. “I see that now. You really are a Barkov, you know. Aleksei was right about you.” I laugh at that, but my heart soars with his words. Maybe I can belong somewhere—have a family I could call my own.
“I'll leave you to it then.” He offers, already walking deeper into the cemetery.
By the time I reach Aleksei, he's leaning against a car, deep in thought. I guess the cemetery does have that kind of effect, making you reflect on life more deeply. I place my hand on his shoulder, massaging it. The tension in his shoulder melts away immediately, and he looks at me with a tender smile. I can't help but feel a sense of relief, the air itself somehow feeling lighter.
“I’m going to be a dad.” He murmurs when we sit in the Jeep. It’s so unexpected that it makes me giggle, Aleksei’s hand reaching out to me to pull me in for a quick kiss. When our lips part, he speaks into mine.
“I'm meeting Lorenzo soon. We have a longstanding truce in the works —a proper one this time.” He sighs then before continuing. “We're also dealing with the loose ends we've left run free for way too long—Rosa being one of them.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. “You know, since we're changing quite a few things, I've been thinking, and I've been meaning to ask you—I love my work. So, what do you think about setting up a clinic for the Barkovs? I'd love to work directly with my family.”
He smiles, eyes filling with genuine warmth.
When the engine comes to life, I feel a complex tapestry of emotions grow inside me. There’s the joy of sharing my pregnancy with Aleksei but also the growing nervousness I feel as the car GPS shows us advancing towards the hospital where Giorgia is currently being treated.
It’s the first time I’m seeing her since that day. The day that the memories of my childhood with her crumbled, the person I cared for—and trusted—for the past twenty years of my life, dissipated into thin air. I feel Aleksei’s tender touch on my hand, his squeezing comforting the burning lick of anxiety now spreading through my body. I nod to him, not able to say much more, before exiting the car.
We don’t wait to see her as much as I hoped we would—time that I convinced myself would be used to prepare myself to see someone who I loved but had been hurt so deeply by. But none of it could’ve prepared me for who I see before me now.
Giorgia’s eyes look glazed over when I take the seat across the table. She looks distant, only looking up when I speak her name.
“Bia?” She asks, voice rough with lack of use. A single tear rolls down her cheek, and it’s enough to set off all the emotions I have tried to push aside since that day.
“It’s me,” I answer, stretching my arm out to reach for hers. I thought I’d be angry, but nothing prepares me for the pain I see reflected in her eyes. We don’t speak much then, her eyes glazing over again, but I know she’s there when she squeezes my hand after I squeeze hers.
***
I feel drained when we arrive at the mansion, sorely in need of a bath and a good cry. The day has been so full of ups and downs that I think I’ll fall asleep standing, but the fatigue leaves my body when Aleksei offers to take a shower with me.
His hands are soft as they lather the soap into my skin, caressing and massaging the suds away. The soft scent of vanilla fills the air, calming the nerves that I felt ever since we arrived at the mental hospital Gia was treated at. But then I feel Aleks’s soft touches bring me back to the moment, and looking at the determined concentration on his face, I realize I want him. Need him.
I lean forward, standing on my toes to reach his lips. It’s gentle at first, tongues exploring each other in a languid rhythm. When I grab for his neck to pull him closer, he deepens the kiss, becoming hungrier and more urgent. His hands grab at my breasts, then the swell of my hips and ass. I can feel the familiar heat building between my thighs—the one that is almost ever present whenever Aleksei is around. He breaks the kiss, lips lingering over my ear,
“I love you, Bianca. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He doesn’t wait for a response, sealing his lips back over mine. It’s only when we come back to take a breath that I manage to say it to him. Say what I’ve been meaning to tell him for a long time but was scared to. Not anymore.
“I love you too, Aleksei.” My soul feels like it’s on fire when he lifts me, leaning my back on the tiled wall and securing my legs around his waist. I can feel it between us now, a warmth that will never get extinguished. When he enters me, I see stars, already wet for him just from his presence. He starts slow but looks into my eyes with each thrust punctuating his words, love you and mine echoing in the space around us. I know it then that I am his , and he is mine .