39. Cathy
39
CATHY
The next day…
T he mansion feels less like a prison today. Sunlight spills through the open shutters, casting warmth over the walls and chasing away the shadows that usually linger in the corners.
I walk slowly down the hallway, my mind crowded with thoughts of Ivan—his initial intentions, his confessions, and, against all odds, the growing softness I see beneath his rough edges. But still, I can’t shake the doubts entirely.
Needing clarity, I find myself drifting to the kitchen, where Anya is busy preparing tea. She moves with a quiet grace, pouring steaming water over the tea leaves and letting the aroma fill the air. When she sees me, she gives me a small, knowing smile.
“What’s on your mind, golubushka?” she asks gently, setting the teapot down and gesturing for me to sit.
I take a seat across from her, and for a moment, I just watch the steam curl up from the cups. My words feel tangled, stuck in my chest, but eventually, they come out in a rush. I tell her everything that happened since we last talked, everything Ivan has said to me.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I conclude. “Ivan, he told me that this all started because of revenge. He married me to get back at Jimmy. Can I believe he actually cares about me, when everything between us was built on manipulation?”
Anya nods thoughtfully, her fingers circling the edge of her teacup. She doesn’t rush to respond, letting the words settle between us. “I can understand why you feel that way,” she says finally, her voice gentle but firm. “But Cathy, I’ve known Ivan for years. You’ve changed him.”
Her words catch me off guard, and I look down, tracing the rim of my own cup. “Changed him? How?”
Anya takes a breath, her gaze soft but serious. “I’ve seen Ivan through many seasons, Cathy. I’ve seen him at his most ruthless, his most withdrawn. But you… you’re different. He’s let you into his life, his home, and most importantly, his heart. That isn’t something he gives lightly, not even to himself. For a man like Ivan, letting someone in at all is an act of… well, love.”
My heart aches at her words. “But how can I be sure? How do I know he doesn’t just see me as something to control, like everything else in his life?”
Anya leans forward, reaching out to gently touch my hand. “Revenge might have been what brought him to you, Cathy, but it’s love that keeps him here. His protectiveness, his desire to keep you safe—that isn’t just possessiveness. It’s him struggling to show you how he feels, the only way he knows how.”
I close my eyes, Anya’s words sinking in deeply. Slowly, memories surface—the way Ivan’s gaze would soften when he thought I wasn’t looking, the way he remembered every small detail about me, even the way he pulled me close at night, as if he was afraid I might disappear.
“Maybe you’re right,” I whisper, almost to myself. “I don’t want to live in fear of Jimmy anymore. I don’t want anyone to have any power over me. But I praised him for no longer keeping secrets, and then I kept the pregnancy from him. I’m just as bad as he is, aren’t I?”
She squeezes my hand. “When the right moment comes to tell him, you’ll know.”