Chapter 37 #2
“Okay, so,” Anya’s voice cracks slightly as she tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, “hear me out. Ignore everything about weight. That’s fucked up.” She holds up her hands defensively when Yelena’s eyes narrow. “But what if the pajamas thing is real? What if you tried dressing up one night?”
My head snaps toward Anya. “Are you serious right now? You’re taking her side?”
Anya leans forward slightly, trying to soften the blow, her hand hovering near mine on the cushion. “What if he’s pulling away because he thinks you don’t want him? Like, what if it’s a miscommunication?”
“I want him all the time.” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to stop them. “He’s all I think about.”
“But are you showing him that?” Anya tilts her head, her eyes soft with pity, and she scoots closer to me on the sofa. “Like, physically demonstrating it? Or just hoping he reads your mind?”
I feel the guilt settling into my bones, and I slouch lower into the sofa. “What am I supposed to do? I’m exhausted all the time.”
My mom stands up, towering over where I’m still sitting, and she picks up her reading glasses from the coffee table, folding them carefully. “Your marriage is failing because you’re prioritizing yourself over him. Fix it or watch it crumble.”
My voice cracks. “You’re being cruel.” I look down at my lap because I can’t meet her eyes.
“Life isn’t fair my darling daughter.” She turns toward the hallway, already dismissing me, her heels clicking against the hardwood. “I’m going to lie down. This conversation is giving me a headache.”
I catch Yelena murmuring “Fucking typical” to herself as she stands and begins pacing.
My mom freezes mid-step, turning slowly, her entire body pivoting to face Yelena. “Your disapproval means nothing to me. I’ve been married for thirty years. How long did your longest relationship last?”
Yelena steps forward, positioning herself between my mother and me. “The problem isn’t Zoya. The problem is that her husband is emotionally unavailable, and you’re blaming her for it.”
My mom straightens to her full height, rolling her shoulders back.
“Alexei is not some ordinary man having a bad day at the office. He’s the most powerful man in Russia.
And his pregnant wife is complaining that he won’t let her wander around dangerous neighborhoods.
” She looks at me with cold finality, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Grow up.”
“You think you’re entitled to his desire just because you’re carrying his child?” She shakes her head slowly, her expression pitying. “That’s not how men work. Make yourself desirable or accept a sexless marriage.” She turns on her heel and walks away.
Then she’s gone, her footsteps echoing down the hallway while I sit frozen in place. Anya is staring at her hands. Yelena is breathing hard through her nose.
“Jesus Christ.” Yelena drops back onto the sofa, her head in her hands. “That was the most toxic thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
“That was…” Anya trails off, her hand hovering near my arm. “I don’t even have words for what that was.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My brain is stuck in a loop, repeating everything she said. What if everything she said is true, and I’ve been lying to myself this whole time?
Yelena moves closer, her arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me against her. “Don’t you dare believe a word she said. Not one word.”
“You don’t know that.” I shake my head, feeling tears burn behind my eyes. “What if she’s right?”
Yelena shakes me gently, demanding my attention. “Because healthy relationships don’t require you to perform femininity while you’re growing a human being.”
“I haven’t been trying, though. Not really.” My voice breaks completely. “Maybe if I just…”
“Enough.” Yelena’s hands frame my face, forcing me to hold eye contact. “Your mother is toxic and wrong, and you are not going to internalize her bullshit.”
Anya reaches out hesitantly. “Zoya, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to side with your mom. That came out wrong.”
“Anya, I love you, but read the room.” Yelena stands, pacing again. “You think putting on lingerie is going to fix the fact that her husband won’t communicate?”
“I’m just saying…” Anya tries again, but Yelena cuts her off with a hand wave.
She pulls away from me, standing abruptly. “I can’t be here right now. If I stay, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Yelena pulls me up from the sofa and into a fierce hug, her hand cradling the back of my head. “Don’t be alone with your thoughts tonight. Call me. I don’t care what time.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
She leaves without another word, and I listen to her footsteps fade away. Anya stays for a moment longer, perched on the edge of the sofa. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
“I know you were trying to help.” I force something like a smile.
“Just…” Anya picks up her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. “Try talking to him. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I’ve tried,” I say quietly. She embraces me, her perfume overwhelming for a second. “Don’t stop trying. Please.”
Then she’s gone too, and I’m alone in the living room. I press my palm against my stomach, feeling the small swell there. Three and a half months. I hear her voice in my head, over and over: You’re already quite thick. Make yourself someone he wants to come home to. Then maybe he’ll fuck you again.
My stomach turns over, and I press my hand to my mouth. My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump. A text from Yulia flashes on the screen.
Yulia
Hey! Just uploaded all the photos from the South District project to the shared drive. Sorry it took so long. Hope you’re doing okay. Miss you at school.
Delivered
The photos.
Right.
The photos I took before everything went to hell. I stand slowly, my legs unsteady beneath me. I walk upstairs, down the hall to the room Alexei set up for me. If I can just look at my work, maybe I can remember that I'm more than what she says I am.
I’m in my photography room, standing at the large corkboard Alexei had installed on the wall, surrounded by photos spread across the desk.
The printer hums beside me, spitting out more images from Yulia’s files.
Image after image of the South District.
Old factories converted into apartments, students living in conditions that would make a health inspector weep.
The next photo joins the others. The broken stairwell with its corroded metal framework and missing safety rails.
The door opens, and I smell his cologne before he says anything. “Finally.” He sounds relieved. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
I turn to find him leaning in the doorway. “Here I am.” I try to match his lightness.
He walks in, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood. “You’ve been busy.”
“Sort of. Yulia got the project photos uploaded, finally.”
“Right. The one that nearly cost me my wife.” His jaw tightens.
He steps in behind me, close enough that I feel his body heat, and his palms come to rest on my hips. “These are incredible, Vedma.” His voice drops lower, his chin nearly touching my shoulder. “You have serious talent.”
“You think so?” I whisper, leaning back slightly into him.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He kisses the side of my head gently. “This is museum-quality work. You could exhibit these.”
My chest feels lighter suddenly, like I can breathe properly for the first time today. “Marriage vows include lying about my photography skills?”
“I wouldn’t lie about your work.” His arms wrap around my middle, drawing me into him. “My talented, stubborn, beautiful wife.”
I lean into him, letting my eyes close. This. This is what I’ve been missing. “Meetings go okay?” I ask, trying to keep him here like this.
“Tedious. Yakov wanted to discuss every minor detail of the new contract.” He presses a kiss below my ear. “Tell me you had more fun than I did.”
I tense slightly, my shoulders going rigid. “Fine.”
“How’s your mom doing?” He sounds genuinely curious.
“She’s fine,” I say with exhaustion.
“That’s good. She came all the way from Kyiv to help you through your first pregnancy. It must be nice having her around.”
I press my lips together and say nothing. His hands shift to my arms, turning me. “Talk to me. What is it?”
“Forget it.” I stare at the third button down on his shirt.
“Vedma.” He tilts my face up. “Look at me. I can tell when you’re upset.”
“I can’t do this anymore.” I pull away from him. “I want her out of this house.”
He blinks, clearly surprised. “Did something happen? Did she say something?”
“Nothing worth repeating.” I busy myself with the photos.
“Zoya, if she said something inappropriate…” His hands tighten on me.
“Alexei, no.” I push lightly against his chest. “Stay out of it. Please.”
He doesn’t look happy about it, but he stops. “Alright. But if she crosses a line…”
“I appreciate it.” My hands relax against his chest. I pull him down to me, kissing him hard.
He responds immediately, his mouth opening against mine, one hand sliding into my hair.
His hands dig into my hips, and I tug at his hair, wanting him closer.
I pull away first, both of us gulping air.
“I missed this,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Tell me. What did you miss?” His thumb traces my bottom lip.
“You touching me without pulling away.” My fingers work on his tie.
“Don’t.” He stills my hands. “You know we can’t.”
“Stop talking.” I work at his belt. “I know what the doctor said. I know I’m okay. So fuck me already.”
“Vedma, listen…” His hands grip my arms, but don’t push me away.
“Touch me.” I stroke him through the fabric. “It’s been almost a month.”
“You think this is easy for me?” He grits out.
“Then stop torturing both of us.” I get his pants open.
“I do touch you…” He loses the thread when my fingers wrap around him.
“Wrong.” I kiss along his throat while my hand moves. “I need you to fuck me, I don’t want your mouth or your fingers. I want your cock.”
His hands clamp down on me, holding me still. “You need to…”