Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SOPHIE
The end of June was, as always, hot. Yet evenings were nice—the air cooled just enough to breathe, carrying the scent of jasmine, and the soft breeze brushing against my skin felt like an embrace.
Another reason we were having my parents’ monthly dinner outside.
It was past the official part, and we’d switched to the terrace, settling into the teak garden sofas.
“Fifi, please, I would be so happy if you’d join.” This was the second time Cath had mentioned about her bridal dress fitting.
I’d managed to dismiss it the first time, when she’d asked a month ago. But with the fitting scheduled for mid-July, Cath’s tone had shifted from hopeful to insistent.
“I’m not sure I’d manage,” I said. “There is so much I need to do.”
“Do what?” Anne asked, shifting in her seat to accommodate her growing belly. She had announced her pregnancy in March, and since then it had been the main topic of the monthly dinners alongside Cath’s upcoming wedding planning. “You say that every time you’re here.”
“Well…” I swallowed. How could I explain?
February had passed in endless discussions and reports. I didn’t meet the teams myself, but with the faxes Ms. Lind sent from headquarters, it was easy to sense the disorder. Layers of approvals, layers of managers, yet no one taking responsibility.
In March, we brought in a new CEO to rebuild the core.
During April and May, the three of us—Ms. Lind, the CEO, and I—were meeting constantly, sometimes every day.
They became my eyes, my ears, and at times, my voice.
My desk at home turned into a small command post: folders stacked by color, faxes rolling in every hour, the smell of paper and toner clinging to the air.
By June, department heads stopped shifting blame, deadlines were met, and weekly summaries showed progress instead of excuses. It wasn’t a win yet, but Atlas was no longer drowning.
Yet one thing stayed frozen: my relationship with Viktor.
We didn’t stop having dinners, though our evenings grew shorter due to the work I was now involved in.
Viktor didn’t complain. He himself was deep in his reports on the other side of the wall.
At least he wasn’t looking as tired as when my full attention was on him.
But we shared short breaks, enjoying refreshments and snacks that Ms. Hale would prepare.
And while I was content with the warmth that came from Viktor’s eyes, I wanted that warmth on my skin.
His fingers in my hair, his lips on my neck.
Maybe tracing a pattern from my ear, ending on my lips, then going down to my chest. His weight pressing me into the sheets, his legs tangled with mine while my nails left marks down his back.
Was I wrong for wanting all of that?
I sipped my chilled white wine, letting the coolness settle, while my eyes scanned the garden looking for Viktor. He was standing near the swing, his hands in his pockets, his face intent. He frowned when Mark chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass as heat pooled low in my stomach.
I took another sip and looked away, scanning the terrace for my brother. He was nowhere to be seen, yet I assumed he was somewhere inside, avoiding Viktor as he had for the past few months.
“Is everything good between you?” Cath asked, following my gaze, when I once again glanced at Viktor.
“Usual.” I spun the stem slowly, watching the wine swirl.
“But you want more?” she teased.
“He’s my husband.” I hushed when Mamma came closer, though it was too late.
She looked at me, then at her sons-in-law in the distance. “Is it you or him who’s keeping the distance?”
I wasn’t sure myself. “My therapist says it makes sense we’re taking our time,” I said.
Mamma’s eyes widened. So did Cath’s and Anne’s.
“Your therapist?” The question came from all of them, making more noise than I would’ve preferred.
I smiled, noticing Viktor’s attention shift toward us, and turned back to my family. “Can you be less loud?”
Cath cleared her throat. “So since when have you been going to therapy?”
“Since March,” I told them.
“And you’re only mentioning that now?” Cath leaned closer, and when I shrugged, she asked, “What are you discussing?”
I bit my lip, tasting the slightly bitter edge that lingered from the previous sip.
While I believed there were many things yet to discuss, one question from my therapist kept me awake for several nights: What stops you from sharing your achievements with your family?
It wasn’t like I wanted to keep it a secret, but telling them scared me a lot.
What if I achieve nothing? What if they clicked their tongues in disapproval?
Another question was why I wouldn’t tell Viktor I wanted more. Logically, I knew he would not reject me, that he was most certainly waiting for me to feel comfortable. Yet every time I thought to finally reach out, I couldn’t.
Most certainly wasn’t the same as for sure.
“Fifi.” Anne’s voice made me shudder.
“Ah.” I took my glass to my lips. “Overall.”
I knew by the look on their faces they would love to hear more, but they didn’t push. Only smiled.
As the evening drew to a close, Mamma’s smile never once vanished. And before we settled into the car, she even graced Viktor with a sincere one, along with a warm hug that left my husband looking amused.
When the driver finally pulled us away from my father’s home, Viktor turned to me, narrowing his eyes. “Did something happen?”
I nearly managed to keep my voice steady. “If you’re wondering why Mamma showed such sudden affection toward you, it’s because I told them about therapy. I assume she believes it’s all thanks to you.”
Which was true, but Viktor dismissed it with a slight movement of his hand.
“I’m happy you told them,” he said warmly before shifting slightly in his seat.
A strange electricity mingled where his fingers rested an inch away from mine. My pinky itched, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Sophie?” I felt him leaning closer, and even without seeing him, I could picture the three wrinkles between his brows. “You seem pale.”
“I think I had too much wine,” I told him before reaching to open the window.
But when I moved my hand, our fingers touched, sending a jolt through my entire body.
I jerked my hand back, pressing it against my chest. My breath—fast and shallow. And my fingers warmed as I rubbed them against each other.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—” Viktor’s voice came out quiet.
I shook my head and lowered the window. “Everything is fine,” I said, turning toward the wind.
But my smile didn’t seem to convince Viktor as he shifted to his side, making the distance between us larger.
“It’s really fine. I am not—” I looked back at him, unsure of my next words.
I am not afraid of disgusting you?
I am not afraid of what comes next?
I put my hand back on the seat, in the same place as before, but Viktor didn’t move.
Come closer, I wanted to say.
When my eyes shifted from his face to his hand, then back again, his brows drew together, but he finally placed his palm on the seat between us.
A flicker of satisfaction rose in my chest, yet I couldn’t make myself move my hand any closer. I wanted to. But even if I had jolted earlier only because the touch was sudden, what if I jolted again? Worse, what if I was reading Viktor’s reaction wrong?
Yet with each passing minute, my confidence failed to grow, and all I could do was exchange silent glances with him.