Page 32 of Cashmere Ruin

But love is never simple.

That’s right: I fell in love. Feel free to laugh, but I did. I fell in love with my intended’s brother. What a cliché, right? Wake up, Jane Austen, ‘cause I have a new novel for you.

I could have handled being in love, though. I could have buried it in the same shallow grave my enemies shared back in Russia. I could have killed it in the snow.

But then he did the worst thing he could’ve done.

He loved me back.

He loved mefirst, actually. I could tell right away. He was respectful, distant—but he liked me. That’s what I thought it was at the time: like. Not love. Another first I didn’t see coming.

But it was never meant to go this far. To bring ruin to all our hopes and dreams.

They say a child is a blessing, regardless of the circumstances. Whoever “they” are, they never met Vlad.

I knew my father would kill me for this. That he’d burymein the shallow grave of his enemies.

That he’d bury Yuri.

That he’d bury our child.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I turned to Matvey. I asked him to protect us. To protect us from everyone.

I’m sorry, April. If it’s the last thing I get to say to you, I want it to be this: I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.

I never meant to harm you. I never meant to harm your baby. I don’t know what I was thinking the day of the heist—maybe I wasn’t thinking at all. And afterwards? I just didn’t want us to die.

I don’t expect your forgiveness. I don’t expect to ever be your friend again. If you want to get one good swing in, I’ll even hold the baby for you.

But can you at least understand why I did it?

I made the mistake of not listening once. When Matvey tried to tell me. Even if it was too little, too late, it might have saved something of us. Of the familywe could have been.

So this time, I listen. This time, I let Petra get every single word out.

Then I give her my baby to hold.

“Oh, are you really going to—okay, wait, let me take out my contacts—April? April, what the hell are you doing?”

I wrap my arms around her. It’s like trying to hug a jellyfish: all she does is squirm. “Shut up,” I tell her. “Just shut up and take it.”

For a few seconds, Petra stays frozen in shock. “That’s not how you punch someone,” she points out.

“I can’t punch you, Petra.”

An indignant huff. “What, because I’m pregnant?”

“Because I’d break my hand on that thick skull of yours. Now, shut up and let me hug you.”

“… Why?” she whispers in the end.

And isn’t that the question of the year:Why?

I could say it’s because forgiveness is a virtue. Because Dominic sent me to Sunday school every week and some of it stuck. Or because I’m just that good of a person.

But the truth is, it’s because I’m tired.

I can’t hold another grudge. I just can’t.It’s exhausting, being angry with the people you love. It takes everything out of you. Matvey’s already doing a stellar job of hollowing me out; I don’t need to get any emptier.

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