Chapter 16 – Timofey #2
We stand there for a moment.
Just quietly watching.
Then I look at her.
“What was your childhood like?” I ask.
She turns slightly, surprised by the question.
“In Russia,” I add.
For a second, she doesn’t answer.
Like she’s deciding how much to give me.
Then her gaze drifts back to the water.
“It was…structured,” she says slowly. “Disciplined.”
A small pause.
“My father believed in strength above everything else. Not just physical strength—control, composure, awareness.”
I listen.
Carefully.
“I didn’t have a normal childhood,” she continues, a faint smile touching her lips. “No playing outside with friends. No…softness, I guess.”
The smile fades slightly.
“But I wasn’t unhappy,” she adds. “I just didn’t know anything different.”
Her voice is calm.
Not bitter.
Just…honest.
I study her profile as the light catches her face.
“What would you have changed?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer immediately.
Her gaze stays on the water, thoughtful, distant—like she’s reaching back into something she hasn’t examined in a long time.
When she finally speaks, her voice is softer.
“I think….” She pauses, then exhales lightly. “I would have liked something gentler.”
I don’t interrupt.
“I loved my father,” she continues. “I still do. But his love was….” She searches for the word. “…hard. Everything was about strength. Survival. Control.”
Her shoulders lift slightly.
“I would have liked to grow up with soft love too.”
Something tightens in my chest at that.
Without thinking, my hand moves to her stomach.
Instinct.
I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.
“You have a chance now,” I tell her quietly. “To do it differently.”
Her breath catches.
And then she melts into me.
Completely.
We stay like that for a long time.
Long enough for the sun to disappear beneath the horizon.
Long enough for the sky to shift from gold to deep blue—
And then to night.
The moon rises slowly, casting silver light across the water.
We walk along the shore after that.
No rush.
No destination.
Just…talking.
About everything.
About how she ended up here.
About the strange, almost impossible chain of events that tied her life to mine.
“You know I didn’t like you when we first met?” she says.
I laugh—really laugh. The kind that feels unfamiliar in my chest. Unrestricted.
“I know you didn’t,” I reply. “And I didn’t give a fuck.”
She laughs, shaking her head.
“But now I do,” I add.
Our gazes meet.
And she looks away almost immediately.
Even in the dim light, I catch it—the faint color rising to her cheeks.
It does something strange to my chest. Something I don’t bother trying to understand.
“What about me?” she asks after a second. “Did you like me?”
I hesitate.
Just for a moment.
Then I give her the truth.
“I don’t know about like,” I say. “But I was attracted to you from the first glance.” Her lips curve slightly. “But I thought you were too stubborn for your own good.”
“Were?” she echoes, already laughing.
I glance at her, unimpressed.
“You still are,” I say flatly. “I’ve just accepted my fate.”
She laughs harder at that.
“You’ll be the death of me,” I add.
“Crybaby,” she shoots back immediately.
I stop walking.
She takes two more steps before realizing, then turns back to me.
I’m already looking at her.
Something darker. Quieter.
More certain.
“If I die,” I say slowly, “it won’t be because of you.”
Her laughter fades just a little.
“It’ll be for you.”
The words settle between us. Even I feel the weight of them after they leave my mouth.
Too real. Too honest.
She doesn’t look at me.
And for a second—I almost take it back.
Almost.
Then she clears her throat suddenly.
“I’m hungry,” she says.
I huff out a quiet breath, letting the moment loosen just enough.
“Let’s go,” I reply.
We turn back toward the house, walking side by side again.
“Is there anything in the fridge we can cook?” she asks as we approach.
A small smile pulls at my lips.
“Hm.”
I don’t answer properly.
When we step inside—
She stops.
Completely.
A small setup fills the foyer.
A round table set neatly with plates and cutlery.
Golden candelabras flicker softly, their light dancing against the walls.
Bouquets of fresh flowers—white, blush, soft reds—spread across the space, their scent light but present.
A few balloons float lazily above, tied down with thin ribbons that sway with the air.
And the table is covered with food. She gasps.
“Timofey…what is this?”
I let out a quiet laugh, watching her take it in.
“I had it set up while we were at the beach,” I say simply.
Her eyes flick to mine.
“I want you to relax tonight,” I add. “No stress. No thinking about anything waiting for us back there.”
For a second, she just looks at me.
Then she steps forward and wraps her arms around me tightly.
I freeze for half a heartbeat—
Then hold her just as firmly.
We pull apart, and I guide her to the table.
I help her sit, then take my own seat across from her.
She doesn’t hesitate.
She starts eating immediately.
And I just sit there for a moment—watching her.
The way her shoulders relax.
The way she hums softly under her breath after the first bite, like she didn’t realize how hungry she was.
The way the candlelight catches her face, softer now…lighter than I’ve ever seen it.
Something shifts in my chest.
No—
Something cracks.
The walls I’ve kept in place for years—carefully built, deliberately reinforced—they don’t shatter. But they give. Just enough.
I lean back slightly in my chair, my gaze still fixed on her as she laughs quietly at something—nothing, probably. Just the moment.
And it hits me.
Not like a slow realization.
Not like something I can reason through or ignore.
It slams heavily into me.
I’ve fallen in love with her.
The thought settles in my chest, deep and undeniable.
And for a second—
It almost feels like peace.
Then reality follows immediately after.
Loving her means everything changes.
Her enemies are mine. Her war becomes mine completely. There’s no distance anymore. No separation. No control over how far this goes.
If she falls, I fall with her.
I know that.
And still, as I sit here, watching her in the quiet of this house, with the ocean just beyond the walls and the world held at a distance for a few stolen hours, I don’t regret it.
Not even a little.
If anything….
I lean forward slightly, resting my arms on the table, my gaze softening in a way I don’t let anyone see.
I accept it.