Page 165 of Sinful Games

"Oh, and get this—along with the rave review, they left you a fat tip. And by fat, I mean $25,000. Can you believe it?"

I chuckled, sinking deeper into the bed, pulling the covers tighter around me. Although it was already 9 am, part of me wanted to stay here, cocooned in this warmth, avoiding Alexsei for just a little longer.

After last night's emotional rollercoaster, he insisted I take some time to rest, promising we'd have a proper chat in the morning. Gosh, we had so much to discuss.

And everything is because of you, Caia!

I inwardly winced.

But deep down, I knew it was true.

I had made two significant mistakes in my life.

The first was lacking the courage to escape my father's control. The second was running away from my husband in a misguided attempt to protect him, only to later realize the immense pain it caused both him and myself.

All I wanted was to protect him, but a part of me was consumed by fear—fear that he would come to hate me in the long run and eventually leave me. Call it self-sabotage, but deep down, I think I was trying to shield myself from theinevitable heartbreak, not knowing that a heart already shattered couldn't break any further.

The day I left Alexsei was the day I left Russia. Before boarding the plane, I visited Valeria, who had fought so hard to convince me to stay, to not leave her behind too. But deep down, she knew I had to go. She held me tight, making me promise to call her as often as possible.

"Where are you going next?" Valeria asked, her voice tight as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I don’t know," I sighed, clasping her hands in mine. "I’ve booked a flight to Moldova because it’s visa-free, and it gives me 90 days to figure things out."

She nodded slowly, a faint smile on her lips. "Okay, but let me help you," she said, releasing my hands and darting to grab her phone. After swiftly checking her contacts, she scribbled down a phone number. "Here," she handed me the paper. "My cousin Nikita Grivok lives in New York. He works for the mayor as one of his accountants. He left Russia when my uncle discovered he was gay and hasn’t returned since. His boyfriend, Steven, works for a private photography company, so that's your perfect plan! I’m sure Nikita can assist you with your visa."

I thanked her, tears streaming down my cheeks, and hugged her tightly.

Valeria held me just as tightly before reminding me to take care of myself.

And I did. Well... I did my best.

In unfamiliar cities, far from the ones I loved, I grappled with the grief of losing both my baby and my husband. During those initial weeks after leaving, I found myself alone in a cozy inn recommended by a kind taxi driver. It was owned by his sister and touted as a safe haven for women and families.

At first, I didn't leave my room for weeks. Breakfast, lunch,and dinner were all delivered via room service, so the only face I saw during that time was Irina Podola's—a kind, sixty-five-year-old woman. She was petite, a bit chubby, with beautiful, long, gray hair.

Irina practically saved my life with her kindness.

One night, after spending an hour crying in the shower, I heard a knock on my door. My hands trembled as I opened it, clad in pajamas with a towel wrapped around my head.

Irina stood there, a warm smile on her face, holding a tray of tea and biscuits. "I thought you might like some company," she said gently in Russian, her eyes filled with understanding.

I hesitated, then stepped aside to let her in. She set the tray down on the small table by the window and motioned for me to sit. I did, feeling a strange mix of weariness and vulnerability.

As she poured the tea, she began talking about her family, her life, and the small joys she found in her day-to-day routines. Her voice was soothing, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of warmth inside me. "You remind me of my daughter," she said softly, handing me a cup of tea. "She went through a difficult time too. Sometimes, all you need is someone to listen."

We spent hours talking that night. I shared bits and pieces of my story—the pain of losing my baby and leaving Alexsei. Irina listened without judgment, offering only kindness and empathy.

At one point, she looked thoughtful and said, "A mother losing a child is like a tree losing its leaves. The tree stands bare, vulnerable, and exposed to the world. But in time, it learns to grow new leaves. The old leaves are never forgotten; they become part of the soil, nurturing the tree as it continues to grow. The pain never fully disappears, but it transforms into a different kind of strength."

Her words were sad yet beautiful, resonating deeply with me. I guess she was right. Each person you lose is like a leaf falling, yet you’re still standing tall. All you need to do is look down and smile at those fallen leaves because a tree always finds its strength next to its roots.

From that night on, Irina would stop by regularly, bringing little treats and sharing snippets of her life. Her visits became the highlight of my days, a lifeline in the darkness I was navigating. Slowly, with her support, I began to venture out of my room. I started with short walks around the inn's garden, then gradually explored the neighborhood. Each step, however small, felt like a victory.

Irina's kindness and patience helped me find my footing in a world that had been turned upside down. She taught me that healing doesn't happen all at once; it's a process.

So, I tried to heal.

Some days were better than others.

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