Chapter 5 – Sofia #2
That part lands more quietly than I expect.
Valeria squeezes my hand.
“Come on,” she adds. “Let’s take back what we can.”
I look at her for a moment. Then, reluctantly, I let her lead me forward. At that point, I don’t know what else to do.
The next two days pass in a strange haze.
I don’t completely fall apart, although there are moments when I come dangerously close. Every morning I wake up and spend a few seconds forgetting what’s happening. Then I remember. The wedding. Lukyan. The future that seems to have been decided without me.
The panic never truly leaves. It settles somewhere deeper, becoming something I carry around instead of something that overwhelms me.
Valeria stays close for most of those two days.
Ashley, on the other hand, didn’t take it well at first. I told her everything the night after wedding shopping, and after expressing shock at the coincidence of marrying the handsome stranger who had almost run me over, she reacted with outrage.
I lost count of the number of times Ashley threatened violence against Lukyan over those two days.
At one point, she announced she was willing to run him over with her car. Later, I caught her researching assault charges on her phone while muttering to herself.
It should have worried me.
Instead, it made me laugh.
More importantly, it reminded me that I wasn’t completely alone in this.
The only thing I actively participated in was choosing my dress.
Valeria had expensive taste. Painfully expensive taste. Every gown she showed me looked like it belonged in a royal wedding. Layers of lace. Hand-sewn beadwork. Veils that probably cost more than everything I owned combined.
In the end, I chose something simple.
Something elegant and comfortable that felt like me.
I knew most women spent years imagining their wedding dress. They dreamed about the moment they would walk down the aisle. They imagined the photographs and the memories and the stories they would tell years later.
I couldn’t bring myself to think about any of that.
The dress wasn’t the important part.
Surviving the day was.
Everything else—the flowers, the food, the decorations, the guest list—I left entirely to Valeria.
I simply didn’t have the energy to care.
The less involved I became, the easier it was to create a little distance between myself and what was happening.
One thing I was grateful for was that I hardly saw Lukyan during those two days.
I didn’t know whether he was deliberately staying away from me or whether he was genuinely occupied with whatever Bratva business filled his days. Either way, I appreciated the space.
Every interaction with him left me frustrated.
The confidence.
The certainty.
The way he spoke as though decisions became facts the moment he made them.
By the second evening, I had decided that avoiding each other was probably the healthiest arrangement available to us.
The night before the wedding, Ben arrived to take me to Lukyan’s estate.
The drive had taken almost an hour.
I remembered watching the city disappear beyond the window and wondering if I was looking at the last familiar thing I would have for a very long time.
Then we had arrived.
The estate looked less like a home and more like something belonging to old money and political dynasties. The gates alone were larger than most buildings I had lived near growing up.
The further we drove onto the property, the more uneasy I became.
Everything about the place was excessive.
The size.
The security.
The wealth.
It felt less like arriving at someone’s home and more like entering a private kingdom.
Inside, things somehow became worse.
Not because anyone was rude.
Because everyone was polite.
The staff already knew who I was. They knew which room had been prepared for me. They knew where my things belonged. They spoke to me like I was royalty. When one of them referred to me as Mrs. Rusnak, I felt the words land somewhere deep inside my chest.
No one meant any harm by it.
But hearing it made everything feel real.
Those two words followed me through the house for the rest of the evening.
Today is my wedding day.
The realization sits heavily in my chest as I stand in front of the bedroom window.
The grounds below are busy with preparations. Cars arrive through the gates. Staff move between buildings. Somewhere downstairs, people are arranging flowers and setting tables and preparing for a celebration.
A celebration.
I rest my forehead against the cool glass. The reflection staring back at me looks calm enough. My hair is done. My makeup is perfect. The dress hangs nearby. Anyone looking at me would probably assume I’m nervous in the normal way brides are nervous.
The truth feels much uglier than that. I don’t know what my life is going to look like tomorrow. I don’t know whether I can trust the man I’m about to marry. I don’t know what Karl Jonathan wants from me. And despite everything Lukyan has said, I still don’t understand why any of this is happening.
Tears sting my eyes.
I blink them away immediately.
No.
Not today.
If I’m going to walk into this wedding, I’m going to do it standing up. Even if every part of me wants to run.
I draw in a slow breath and straighten my shoulders, staring at my reflection one last time.
The door behind me opens softly.
I turn.
Valeria and Ashley step into the room.
For a moment, I’m distracted by how beautiful they both look.
Valeria’s dress is elegant in a way that seems effortless, while Ashley somehow manages to look glamorous and intimidating at the same time.
The two of them have become surprisingly close over the last two days. Considering their personalities, I probably shouldn’t be surprised. They both have a stubborn streak that could flatten buildings.
Valeria smiles gently when she sees me. “It’s time.”
My stomach immediately knots.
I already know what she means.
“Lukyan is waiting in the garden.”
The room suddenly feels smaller. This is actually happening.
I swallow and nod.
Neither of them rushes me.
Ashley crosses the room first.
She takes both my hands in hers and squeezes.
Her expression is unusually serious. “It’s going to be okay, Sofi.”
Emotion clogs my throat instantly.
“We’ll get through this,” she says.
We.
Not you.
We.
As though she’s planning to shoulder part of this burden with me.
A watery laugh escapes me. “Thank you.”
She squeezes my hands one final time before letting go.
Then the three of us leave the room together.
The walk through the estate feels strangely quiet.
The closer we get to the garden, the louder my heartbeat becomes.
I can hear voices before I see anyone.