Page 227 of Marrying the Savage

There are many things between us that desire alone can’t fix. I know that now.

She looks at the piano for a while, then says, “What made you come back?”

I don’t pretend not to understand.

She keeps her eyes on the keys. “That day. When you left the car. When everyone else was going to the hospital with Maksim. What made you know?”

I walk into the room slowly and sit beside her on the bench. She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t lean into me either. That’s fair. Some things must be answered before the body can trust what the heart has already decided.

“Maksim had a puncture mark on his wrist,” I say. “It was hidden under clear tape. His fever came unnaturally first, and the bruise beside it looked like someone held him down.”

Her fingers curl against the edge of the bench. “Grigori did that to his own son.”

“Yes.”

Her face tightens. “I still can’t understand it. What kind of parent won’t protect their own child?”

Her hand moves to her stomach. I watch it because I can’t help myself.

“And the rest?” she asks quietly. “What made you see the rest?”

“Nikolai said Grigori gave him the information about the man from the club running to Sergei. I had ordered that kept inside the direct team. Grigori should not have had it unless he created the trail or controlled the person who saw it.”

Sofia’s face goes still.

I continue because this is the part I owe her, even if it cuts both of us. “Once I saw that, everything else changed. Grigori manipulated the facts and it became his story.”

Her mouth tightens. “And you believed him.”

“I know an apology isn’t going to fix this,” I say. “But he was my cousin, he was loyal to me, always.”

She looks down at the keys again. “I hated you for that,” she says.

“I know.”

“No, I really hated you. Not in the pretty angry-wife way that turns into sex ten minutes later. I sat in this room and thought, he believes them. He believes I’m capable of that. He believes I came here to ruin him.” Her voice shakes slightly, but she keeps going. “And then when I told you I was pregnant, you walked out, and all I could think was maybe he thinks I did that on purpose too.”

My chest tightens. “I didn’t think that.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I know.”

“You left me with silence, Damir. You keep doing that when things get too big for you, and I am supposed to stand there and guess whether you are angry, disgusted, grieving, or planning to lock another door.”

She’s right. I hate hearing it, but she is right.

“I was afraid,” I say.

Her eyes lift to mine. The word is not one I give easily, but she deserves it without negotiation.

“When you told me about the baby, I didn’t know how to hold the news. After my parents, my sisters, my brother, Elena, I stopped imagining that life would give me anything new without taking payment in advance. You said pregnant, and for one second, I saw everything at once. You. The child. A future I hadn’t allowed myself to want.”

Her face softens, but she doesn’t rescue me from the confession.

“I walked out because I was overwhelmed, not because I rejected you. It was still wrong. I should have stayed, and I should have told you that I was afraid and happy and not ready to be either.”

Her eyes shine now, but she doesn’t cry. “What about the day you came back?” she asks. Her throat moves.