Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
AVELINA
It’s three weeks since we returned to the Kremlin. And I start to notice something.
I notice it first in the small things. The way he stays back when we’re out in the garden, instead of joining me and the kids. How his hands stay in his pockets more often. The way he’s distracted. It’s the quiet distance of someone in their head.
Viktor’s never been loud with his emotions. But he’d never hidden from me either. Not like this.
At first, I tell myself it’s nothing.
Maybe he’s tired or stressed about work.
But the pattern keeps repeating.
I can’t pretend it’s not bothering me. That the silence isn’t eating away at me. It’s not just the garden. He’s quieter at meals. Slower to reach for my hand. There’s no sharp edge to it, but the absence of his presence is heavier than any fight we could ever have.
I catch myself studying him when he’s distracted. The way his shoulders stay tense when he’s sitting still. The way his eyes fix on some invisible point across the room as if he’s trying to calculate something.
Finally, I decide enough is enough.
When I step into the sunlight, Viktor’s crouched near the far fence line, his hands busy with something I can’t see. He doesn’t look up when I approach, which is unusual. He always notices me first.
“Viktor.”
He pauses, setting his trowel down to finally look at me. “Yeah?”
“Can we talk?” I step closer. “You’ve been…somewhere else lately. Avoiding me.”
His brow furrows. “I’m not avoiding you. We saw each other at breakfast.”
“It feels like you are. And I’ve been watching you for the last week or so…”
Something shifts in his eyes, just a flicker, but it’s enough to tell me I’ve hit some kind of truth.
He stays silent long enough that I almost think he’s going to get up and walk away.
Then he exhales, slow and deliberate like he’s weighing the cost of the words. “I don’t think I can give you what you need, Avelina.”
It’s not the words I want to hear. I keep quiet, letting him explain in his own time.
“I’ve been trying to figure it all out. What people mean when they talk about…love. Not just the word. The feeling. Everyone says it’s supposed to be overwhelming. Consuming. Like your mind and entire body know at the same time.”
“And you don’t…feel that, Viktor?”
His jaw works before he shakes his head. “Not the way other people describe it. For me…” He clears his throat. “For me, it’s like numbers. Levels. I can measure how much I want to keep someone safe. But it’s not a ten. Not in the way people talk about.”
My heart twists—because I can hear the frustration in his voice. This isn’t about him not caring. It’s about him not believing that what he feels is enough.
“Viktor,” I say, gently resting my hand on his one. “Love isn’t a number.”
He looks down at my hand like it’s a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. “Then what is it?”
“It’s the way you do things for someone without having to.
Like the way you let me plant daisies in your vegetable garden because you know how happy the flowers make me.
It’s the way you make sure the kids are safe without expecting anything in return.
It’s the way you get puzzles for Sofia when you notice she’s struggling.
It’s the way you stayed outside the bedroom door when you thought I might have a nightmare, just so I wouldn’t be alone if I woke up. ”
His brow furrows with confusion. “Those are just…actions.”
“They’re love. Your version of it. And that’s enough for me. It’s more than enough. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“There’s something else, Avelina,” he says slowly after a long minute of silence.
“You can tell me, Viktor.”
He takes a deep breath. “In my dreams…and sometimes when I’m thinking, the images aren’t black and white. They’re…color.”
I don’t understand at first. “You mean colorful?”
“No. I mean that the images in my thoughts and dreams used to always be black and white. But now? It’s more than monochrome.
The images in my mind are green, yellow, blue, and pink.
Like when I thought about the dress you wore the other day, I imagined it in my mind, and I imagined it in yellow.
Before I met you, I didn’t think or dream in color.
But now, colors show up in my mind without warning. ”
I squeeze his hand as I think over his words. “I think, Viktor, that maybe your mind is finally letting you feel in ways it couldn’t before. Maybe color is just…your mind and subconscious catching up to your heart.”
His eyes search mine. And for the first time in a while, I see something loosen in his expression.
“Love,” he says, almost like he’s testing the word.
Viktor sits there, staring at our joined hands like the answer might be hidden there.
“I see your face sometimes, Avelina. In color, I mean. You know, when I think about you.”
“You do?”
He nods slowly. “But it’s not always the whole thing in color. Sometimes it’s just your hair in the light or your eyes when you’re laughing…” he trails off. His gaze meets mine. “But it’s not constant. What if that means…my love isn’t real?”
“It just means you’re human. No one feels love at full force every second. It’s not about keeping it at a ten out of ten. It’s about having a thread that runs through everything, even when it’s quiet.”
He looks at me like he’s weighing every word. “I think I love you, Avelina.” It’s not a question but a statement he’s testing.
“I know you do, Viktor.” He doesn’t need to even say it for me to know it’s true.
He exhales. “I don’t know if I can change how my mind works.”
“You don’t have to.” I lean until my forehead touches his. “I didn’t fall in love with you because you were like everyone else. Viktor, I fell in love with you because you’re you. And you’re what my heart wants and needs.”
His fingers tighten over mine slightly.
“Avelina, if the colors don’t stop…I think I’d like that.”
I smile at him. And for the first time in days, that space between us doesn’t feel like a gap at all. It feels like something we can cross. Together.