Chapter 16 - Trifon
By the time I arrive home, night has fallen. The house is quiet except for the sound of the television coming from the living room. I loosen my tie as I follow the sound, finding Yulia curled up on the couch, still in her scrubs, hair piled messily on top of her head.
She looks up when I enter, and something in my chest loosens at the sight of her. Despite how tired she looks, I swear she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on today.
“Hard day?” I ask, shrugging off my jacket and draping it over the arm of the couch.
She stretches, arms reaching overhead like a cat. “Busy. Had a teenager come in with a knife wound, he swore was from ‘falling on scissors.’“
“And was it?”
“Of course not,” she snorts. “But I patched him up anyway and sent him home with antibiotics and a lecture about lying to doctors.”
I chuckle, settling beside her. She doesn’t flinch away anymore. Doesn’t tense at my proximity.
“You work too hard,” I observe, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The casual intimacy of the gesture—how natural it feels—catches us both off guard.
She recovers first, rolling her eyes. “Says the man who probably spent all day plotting world domination.”
“Just Boston domination,” I correct, smiling despite myself. “World domination is scheduled for the next quarter.”
She laughs, the sound washing over me like a balm. When did her laughter become something I crave?
“You know,” I continue, careful to keep my tone light, “you could hire another doctor for the clinic. Share the load.”
“I like being busy,” she counters. “Besides, the patients are starting to trust me. If I bring in someone new, we’d have to start from scratch.”
I study her face—the passion in her eyes when she talks about her work, the slight flush in her cheeks. She truly loves what she’s doing. What I’ve given her.
The thought of her family arriving next week looms in the back of my mind. I should tell her. Prepare her for what’s coming. For the choice she might have to make.
But looking at her now, relaxed and almost happy in my presence, I can’t bring myself to shatter this moment of peace by talking about family politics.
“I’m proud of you,” I say instead, surprising both of us. “What you’ve built at the clinic and how well you’ve handled things.”
She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the praise. “I... thank you.”
A comfortable silence falls between us. On screen, a medical drama unfolds.
“This is completely unrealistic, you know,” she comments, gesturing at the TV. “No one’s scrubs look that good after a twelve-hour shift. And that procedure they just did? Physically impossible without rupturing the patient’s spleen.”
I smile, watching her get worked up over fictional medicine. “So why watch it?”
“Because it’s hilarious,” she admits. “And sometimes I need to turn my brain off.” She shifts, pulling her knees to her chest. “Stay and watch with me? Unless you have more domination to plan.”
The invitation catches me off guard. It’s so... normal. So domestic. Nothing like the elaborate chess match we’ve been playing for weeks.
“I think world domination can wait an hour,” I concede, kicking off my shoes and settling deeper into the couch.
She tosses me half the throw blanket, and I drape it over my legs, hyperaware of how close she is, how easy it would be to pull her against me.
As the show continues, I find myself watching her more than the screen. The little crease between her brows appears when something particularly egregious happens on screen. The soft curve of her lips when she smiles at some inside joke only a real doctor would understand.
I should be strategizing. Planning my next move against the Zakharovs. Figuring out how to handle the Fyodorovs’ arrival. Instead, I’m mesmerized by the way Yulia tucks her feet under my thigh for warmth without seeming to realize she’s done it.
When did this happen? When did my prisoner become something else entirely?
I think back to Valentin’s warning. You’ve changed since she came into your life. Don’t let it blind you.
But as Yulia’s head gradually droops onto my shoulder, her body relaxing into sleep beside me, I wonder if it’s already too late. Because right now, with the weight of her against me, I feel something I haven’t felt in years.
Peace.
The sense that, for this moment, everything is exactly as it should be.
Let the storm come, I think, pressing my lips to the top of her head. For tonight, at least, we’re sheltered from it.