Chapter 18 - Sima
SIMA
The breakfast tray sits on the table by the window. Eggs, toast, fruit, tea. I try to make myself eat, but the fork feels heavy in my hand. My stomach turns with every bite I force down.
It’s not the food. It’s the memory.
The kiss.
I told myself I’d never let him touch me like that again. But the second his lips brushed mine, all of that resolve crumbled.
I know it was a mistake. A huge one. Letting him pull me back into that fire only tangled me deeper in the mess I swore I’d escaped.
And yet, I can’t deny what it did to me. Turns out the Sima that once wanted Petyr never really stopped wanting him.
I push the fork aside and wrap my arms around myself. The morning light catches the edges of the curtains, soft and gold, but it doesn’t warm me. I shiver anyway.
Because I remember him the way he used to be. The man who could be gentle when he wanted. The husband who made me think, for one reckless heartbeat, that we might have a future.
That Petyr is buried now under layers of anger and ice. He’s cold, calculating. Cruel when it hurts most.
But sometimes, I see him again, in flashes. Just enough to give me hope, then rip it all away.
I pick at the corner of the toast and crumble it between my fingers.
My chest aches. The silence presses in. I wish I could talk to Lara, to tell her how badly I’ve screwed up, how desperately I need someone to remind me who I am.
I want to see my sister’s face instead of the memory of Petyr’s eyes in the firelight.
I push the tray away. The food’s gone cold, but it isn’t why I can’t eat. It’s him. Always him. No matter how far I run or how hard I try to cut him out, he’s under my skin.
And last night proved he always will be.
My line of thought breaks when I hear the lock rattling. Seconds later, the door slams open so fast the tray trembles on the table.
I jolt. My hands fly to my lap as Petyr strides inside without knocking.
“Petyr, what the hell—?”
“I’ve scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you.” Those are the first words out of his mouth. I’m not expecting “hello” or “how do you do” or even “sorry for running off on you last night,” but surely a little bit of manners wouldn’t kill him. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll be going with you.”
I sit up straighter. Confusion fills my head. So close to my due date, I’m not against the idea. But…
“Why are you suddenly so interested in going with me?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
My stomach twists. “Excuse me?”
“You told me it’s a girl.” He takes a step closer. “But I can’t know that. For all I know, it could be a boy. My heir.”
“You think I’d lie about that?”
“I think you’d do whatever it takes to get free.” His jaw tightens. “So I’m going to find out for myself. I want the doctor to confirm it while I’m in the room.”
Anger rises through me. My chest tightens and my thoughts tumble one over the other.
I want to fucking yell at him. Does he even realize how insulting this is? No. Of course not. He thinks he can treat me whatever way he wants. He’s made that abundantly clear. Why shouldn’t he call me a liar about this, too?
That is who he is.
I was just too stupid to see it.
“You don’t trust a word out of my mouth, do you?” I find myself whispering. “Not one.”
Petyr’s face is blank. Cold. Not a single trace of remorse on it. “Not when the future of my Bratva is on the line.”
I push my chair back. The legs scrape hard against the floor. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re treating me like a criminal. Like I’m sitting here plotting lies just to trick you.”
His stare doesn’t soften. “You’ve run before. You’ve lied. Why should I believe this is different?”
“Because this is my child, too.” I lift my chin and meet his eyes. “Because I wouldn’t use her like that.”
For the first time, he falters. His gaze drops to where my hand rests against my belly. “I’ll know tomorrow,” he says after a long, slow exhale. “Be ready.”
He’s halfway to the door when I find myself speaking again. “What good would it do?”
Petyr stops. His hand lingers on the knob, but he doesn’t turn it. Nor does he turn around to face me.
“In a few weeks,” I continue, “the truth will be obvious anyway. You’ll see it for yourself. So why do you think I’d bother lying? What good could it possibly do to me?”
He faces me fully again, eyes narrowed. “Because you’re trying to manipulate me. You hope that, if I think you can’t give me what I want, I’ll let you go.”
I blink at him, stunned. “Is that even an option?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” My arms cross over my chest. “So again, why would I lie?”
“Because it’s what you do.”
I rise from the chair, my knees unsteady but my voice steady enough. “Right back at you.”
His eyes narrow further. His lips part like he wants to say something more, then press tight again. He stands there, shoulders tense, every line of his body rigid.
I shift my weight and rub a hand over my stomach. The baby stirs, a reminder of what all of this is really about.
“You think I don’t know who you are, Petyr?” I step forward, furious. “You’ve lied to me since the beginning. About what you wanted. What I was to you.” My throat burns, but I force the words out anyway. “Don’t act like you’re the only one with the right to doubt.”
“So you admit you’ve tricked me in the past.”
I shake my head. “I admit I’ve survived you. There’s a difference.”
He shifts his stance, shoulders squaring again, and I know the conversation is over. This time, though, when the door slams behind his back, I’m glad to see him go.