Chapter 7 – Sofia #2
When he finally speaks, his voice is lower.
“It is,” he says gently. “I will protect you, Sofia. From any harm. You have my word.”
That makes me look back at him.
There’s something about the way he says it—direct, unpolished, unguarded in a way I’m not used to from him. Like he’s choosing comfort over control, even if it costs him something.
I should step back.
I don’t.
Instead, I ask, softer this time, “And the part where I don’t get a choice in any of this?”
His jaw tightens slightly. “It’s the way our world works, zaychik.”
Something in my chest sinks at that, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “So I’m just supposed to accept it?”
A beat.
“You’re supposed to stay alive,” he replies.
The answer lands heavier than I expect.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
The air between us feels different again—closer, tighter. Seems as though the conversation has stripped something down without either of us noticing when it happened.
I realize I’m still standing too near him.
He realizes it too.
We both pause at the same time.
My gaze drops to his mouth, and I swear I see his eyes do the same. My heart pounds in my chest.
I step back first, breaking whatever line was forming between us.
His expression resets immediately. Controlled again.
Mine does too, I think.
But not as cleanly.
“I should go,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t stop me.
But his eyes stay on me a second longer than necessary.
And I don’t know why that follows me as I leave the bathroom.
I make it back to my bedroom too fast, like the hallway itself is pushing me away from whatever just happened.
The door closes behind me with a soft click, and only then do I exhale properly.
Then I walk straight to the bed and drop onto it. Hard. The mattress dips under my weight as I pull the covers up and bury my face in them like that can erase the last few minutes from my memory.
Because what was that?
What was I doing standing there like that?
Talking to him like he was… normal.
Like he wasn’t Lukyan Rusnak. The man who coerced me into marrying him.
I groan into the blanket.
No.
I don’t care.
I absolutely don’t care.
Except my body clearly didn’t get the memo.
My face feels warm just thinking about it, and I roll onto my side with a frustrated huff.
Was I about to kiss him?
The thought hits so fast I actually freeze.
No.
No, I wasn’t.
I mean—
I would never.
Except there had been a moment. That small, quiet stretch where neither of us moved back fast enough. Where the air felt different. Closer than it should have been.
And if he had leaned in—
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Stop.
Absolutely not.
I drag the pillow over my head again like that will help.
A vibration breaks through the chaos.
My phone.
I reach out blindly, grab it from the nightstand, and squint at the screen.
Ashley.
It’s almost midnight.
Her text is a full-blown paragraph of excitement about some new romance novel hero she has apparently decided is “the love of her life” this week.
I stare at it for a second, then let out a quiet laugh despite myself.
Of course she’s in love with a fictional man again.
Ashley never met a fictional man she didn’t want to marry and emotionally ruin her life over.
That thought alone is enough to pull me slightly back into myself.
Without thinking too much about it, I tap her name and call.
She picks up almost immediately.
“SOFIA,” she says instead of hello. “You are AWAKE. Do you know what time it is? Because I’m about to talk about a man who is ruining my life, and I need you fully conscious for this.”
I close my eyes again, sinking into the bed.
“Hi, Ash,” I laugh. “Yeah, I’m awake.”
And for the first time tonight, my voice actually sounds like mine again.
“Great!” Ashley doesn’t waste a second before launching into it. “Okay, so this man—Achilles—right? I’m telling you, Sofia, I don’t think you understand the level of obsession I have for him right now.”
I let out a soft laugh, turning onto my side.
“The mythological one?” I ask.
“Yes! The one and only,” she says, as if there could possibly be more than one. “He’s literally the hottest thing on the planet. I don’t care what anyone says.”
I smile into the pillow.
“He’s not a real man, Ash.”
There’s a beat of silence on the line.
Then she scoffs.
“He is real in my heart,” she says firmly. “And I love him. Don’t invalidate my relationship.”
That makes me laugh properly this time, a real one that eases something tight in my chest.
“Okay, okay,” I say. “I apologize to you and your imaginary husband.”
“Good,” she replies, satisfied. “Because he would not like you disrespecting him.”
I shake my head, still smiling, letting her keep talking. She goes on and on the way she always does when she finds a new fictional obsession—dramatic, passionate, completely unbothered by reality. I respond when I need to, tease her when I feel like it, and otherwise just listen.
And I realize I’m grateful for this.
For her voice.
For something normal.
Something that isn’t him.
I don’t mention Lukyan.
Not the way he looked at me.
Not the way my body reacted.
It feels too fragile to say out loud. Like naming it would make it real in a way I’m not ready for.
So I keep it where it is.
Temporary.
Passing.
Nothing important.
By the time Ashley finally slows down, her excitement tapering into sleepy rambling, I’m already drifting.
“Okay, I should sleep,” she mumbles eventually. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Goodnight, Ash.”
“Goodnight, Sofi.”
The call ends.
My phone slips from my hand onto the bed.
And this time, when I close my eyes, sleep comes easily.