Chapter 18 - Avgust
“You are being quiet again, Ilana.”
She didn’t look at me when I said it. Just kept staring out the car window, chin resting against her knuckles, sunlight cutting soft lines across her face.
“I am always quiet,” she replied.
“No,” I shook my head. “You’re not. At least not with me. We are past that point in our marriage.”
That finally earned me a glance. It was brief and careful, as if she were measuring whether the truth was worth the effort. It had been this way for a few days now, and it was beginning to worry me.
“I promise, Avgust. I am fine.” She said.
I exhaled through my nose. “You have been telling me exactly that for the past week now, Ilana. Every time I find you staring in space or being quiet, you tell me you are fine. But if you actually are fine, why don’t I see it?”
“So you don’t believe me?” she asked, finally turning completely to look at me.
“I wouldn’t keep asking again and again if I did, my love.”
Silence filled the car. It wasn’t awkward or hostile, but heavy.
The kind that presses against your ears until you are forced to listen to your own thoughts.
It had been this way since I had found her sitting in my office all alone.
She could not have found anything in there because she already knew everything.
I hid nothing from her. But something must have prompted this change.
Something I couldn’t pinpoint. Something I needed to know.
The city rolled past us, glass, steel, and heat simmering off asphalt. She shifted in her seat, adjusting the strap of her spaghetti dress like it had suddenly become too tight.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Out.”
“We are already out. How is that an answer?”
“It’s the only one you are getting right now.”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “You are being very bossy today.”
“Today?” I glanced at her. “That’s generous.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t look upset.
That, at least, was something. We stopped first at a place I owned, she didn’t know that, and I did not feel the need to tell her.
I got out of the car and opened the door for her, leading her to the private entrance, which was sprinkled with minimal staff.
Everything was clean and controlled, just the way I liked it.
She sat across from me at the table, hands folded in her lap.
“This feels… expensive,” she said.
“It is.”
“You always take women to places like this?”
“No.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“I haven’t taken a woman anywhere in ages, Ilana.”
“So I am the only one?” she asked, studying me.
“Yes. And you always will be.”
The speed of the answer surprised both of us. Her mouth softened into something which was not quite a smile but came rather close to it.
“What am I to you, Avgust?” she asked.
“My wife.”
She didn’t ask anything further as I led her inside a private hall, which had nothing but a simple table decorated for us in the middle.
I pulled out her chair, she sat down, and I took my place right in front of her.
She looked around at the impressive size and beauty of the hall, which was adorned with expensive paintings.
“Did you book the entire hall for us?” she asked.
“I own the place. I can do whatever I want with it.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. The waiter came and placed our appetizers on the table before us. She looked at the food and dug in, but I watched as she did nothing but poke at the food. Plates came and disappeared, and most of her food went back untouched. It was concerning me.
“You don’t like the food,” I said, unable to ignore it any longer.
“It’s fine.”
“You need to stop saying that when it’s not true.”
She sighed, shoulders dropping. “It’s not the food.”
“Then what is it?”
She hesitated while I watched her argue with herself in real time.
“I don’t know how to be… normal,” she finally said. “After everything. I don’t know how to come back to life.”
“What happened to you wasn’t normal to begin with.”
“No,” she agreed softly. “But this—” she gestured vaguely around us. “—feels like I am playing a role I didn’t even audition for.”
I leaned back. “You don’t have to impress anyone by being perfect all the time. You can simply act the way you want to.”
“I know,” she nodded. “But you’re trying so hard to help me through this all.”
“And is that a problem?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s… sweet.”
Sweet. The word sat wrong with me. But I couldn’t deny it.
Since she had gone quiet, I had been going out of my way to make her feel better.
Initially, I had thought it was cabin fever and had even taken her out.
From breakfast in bed to dinner in the best places of the city, I had been doing it all, and none of it had helped in reviving her.
I stood up before she could stop me and pulled her chair out. “Come on.”
“Where now?”
“You will like it,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes. “That sounds suspicious.”
“It should.”
The second place was smaller. It had no guards or any identifying features. Just old brick and sun-faded posters, and windows cluttered with paintings, leaning against each other like secrets. She stopped dead on the sidewalk.
“Oh,” she breathed.
I watched her instead of the shop.
“Oh?” I repeated.
“This place—” she pushed the door open before I could respond.
Bells chimed softly, and the air smelled of paint, dust, and old wood.
She moved slowly, reverently. Like walls might spook if she startled them.
I could see her taking it all in, and for the first time in days, color returned to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled again.
That was the only thing I wished to see.
“Look at this one,” she said, pointing. “Do you see the way light fractures the surface? It shows anger accompanied by a silver of hope.”
I stared at the painting. Then at her.
“You see all that?” I asked.
She laughed. “You don’t?”
“No.”
She looked genuinely baffled. “It will always be concerning to me the way you buy art without even trying to understand it.”
I shrugged. “I have told you. It fills space.”
“And I have told you that this is a depressing way to look at art.”
“You most certainly have,” I chuckled.
She moved closer to another piece. “Art makes things quieter for me.”
I leaned against the wall. “You never look quiet.”
“That’s because it’s loud in my head. All the damn time.”
I let that sit in for a moment without commenting on it.
After a beat, I said, “You don’t have to be alone in that. I have told you a thousand times that I am here to listen. Whatever you might like to say.”
Her shoulders stiffened again. Barely.
“I know,” she said. “I am trying not to let it all crowd my brain, but it’s hard. Although whenever I do feel the need to talk, I will come straight to you. I don’t really have anyone else.”
“Who did you talk to about things before I came into your life?” I asked, suddenly curious.
She had never mentioned friends and never talked about her life before the kidnapping.
I hadn’t pushed her to either, but Lukyan’s voice came back in my head, reminding me how blind faith can often be dangerous.
“No one. I have never been one to make friends,” she shrugged, my heart aching for her.
“Would you like to buy something from here?” I asked finally, not wanting to comment on anything else.
“No,” she shook her head. “Maybe some other time.”
I opened the door, and she stepped outside as I followed right behind her. On the way out, I handed her a small box wrapped in minimalist gift paper with a red ribbon tied on top. I had gotten things for her before, but this was the first time I had wrapped something this way.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“A phone. For you.”
Her fingers froze.
“You don’t have to take it,” I added. “But I thought—”
She opened it carefully, like it might bite.
“This isn’t monitored?” she asked.
“No.”
“And it doesn’t have any trackers that will tell you my location?”
“No.”
She looked at me, something raw flickering across her face. “Why?”
“So you don’t feel trapped and can start feeling normal again.”
Her throat bobbed. “You’re bad at pretending you don’t care about me.”
“I’m not pretending.”
That shut her up. Back in the car, dusk settled around us. She turned the phone on, stared at the screen without touching it.
“You can message anyone,” I said.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I know.”
We pulled into the driveway just as the sky went dark. Inside, she lingered by the door like she wasn’t sure where to go.
“Ilana,” I said. “Listen to me.”
She turned as if she had been waiting for me to say something. “Yes?”
I took her hand in mine and led her inside the bedroom, and she quickly propped herself on the bed as I sat down beside her. I had been thinking about having this conversation with her for a while now. I just did not know how to go about it.
“I don’t want this to be transactional anymore.”
Her breath caught. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want you here because you’re afraid or grateful or trapped,” I continued.
“I want you here because I want to see if this could be something real. Our marriage, I mean. I don’t want you to think that you will not be able to escape from here if that is what you wish to do.
I married you for protection, Ilana, and I will always protect you. No matter what.”
Her voice was barely audible. “And if it can’t turn into something real? Our marriage.”
“Then we’ll figure it out without hurting each other.”
She stepped closer. “You’re asking for a lot.”
“I know,” I sighed, “but I need to understand if you are somehow tired of our arrangement and want to get out of it? Because if that is the case, I don’t want to be someone who is keeping you unhappy.”
Her hand brushed my wrist. Accidentally. Deliberately.
“Avgust, I don’t hate being here, and I’m not tired of our marriage.
In fact, no matter how it might have started out, it is the one thing that has made me happy in this city since the moment I set foot in here.
It might have started out terribly, but I could not have asked for something better.
You are the highlight of my life, Avgust.”
I swallowed.
“Is that so?”
She looked up at me. “I promise.”
I pulled her closer, and her fingers curled into my shirt.
I didn’t pull away, letting her body melt in my embrace as we held onto each other.
When our mouths met, it was slow. Careful.
Questioning. And when she leaned into me, really leaned, something inside my chest gave way.
I wanted to hold her close and never ever let her go.
When it came to Ilana, my emotions were all-consuming.
“Avgust,” she whispered my name like a prayer, and I pulled her on top of me, her thighs straddling my waist.
I took her face in my hands and kissed her hungrily, knowing she was completely mine to consume, and I wasn’t going to let her go. Now or ever.