Page 59 of Plus-Size Curves for the Bratva

I wrap my arms around myself, seeking comfort. "Maybe there's an explanation," I say softly, trying to convince myself. "Maybe…"

But the image of blood spattered across the store floor flashes in my mind, silencing my feeble attempts at rationalization. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memory away.

***

One morning, I pad down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. As I approach the dining room, the sound of my brothers' voices drifts out, their conversation abruptly halting as I enter. The sudden silence is deafening.

"Good morning," I say, trying to inject some cheer into my voice. It falls flat, even to my own ears.

Nikolai's eyes meet mine. He’s concerned and I can tell from the furrow of his brow. "How did you sleep, Natalia?" he asks gently.

I force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. "Oh, you know… like a baby." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

Dima offers me a reassuring smile. "Come sit, little sister. I saved you some blini."

As I slide into my usual chair, I can feel their eyes on me, gauging my mood. Their scrutiny makes my skin prickle.

"You guys can stop staring," I mutter, reaching for the plate of blini. "I'm not going to shatter into a million pieces."

Nikolai clears his throat. "We're just worried about you, that's all.”

I'm about to retort when Sofia sweeps into the room, her presence immediately lightening the atmosphere. "Good morning, my darlings!" she trills, making a beeline for me. "Natalia,Solnyshko, how are you feeling today?"

Before I can answer, she's pressing a warm mug of tea into my hands. "I added a touch of honey, just how you like it," she says with a wink.

I can't help but smile, genuinely this time. "Thanks, Sofia. You're a lifesaver."

She pulls up a chair next to me and fills up her plate. A slow silence falls across the room.

A few moments later, Fedor clears his throat. “Denis called today, by the way.”

Every head snaps in his direction.

“And four times yesterday,” Artyom adds, looking wary of my reaction.

The mention of Denis's name sends a pang through my chest. I can't deny the complex feelings swirling inside me—the fear, the confusion, and a strange sense of longing that I can't quite comprehend.

Fiddling with a piece of blini, I muster up the courage to ask, "What… What did he say?"

Sofia exchanges a glance with Nikolai before speaking up. "He wanted to make sure you were okay, Natalia. He's worried about you."

“Like hell he is,” I say under my breath. But from the glances my siblings exchange, something tells me they disagree.

***

Another week passes by, and it’s just the same. The house is loud. Nikolai, Dima, Fedor, Sofia, and Artyom keep coming and going from my room, always in the process of asking for something or bringing something.

But they’re only checking in on me. I hear muffled conversations and phones ringing.

One afternoon, I hear Fedor. “She’s pretty shaken up still, Denis,” he says.

I immediately step forward. Denis. He’s on the line. To know he’s on the other line—so close within reach—makes me feel strange. I want to just hear his voice, but there’s nothing to be said.

Fedor notices me and points at the phone, his eyes widening with surprise at the thought that I may ask to speak to him.

In the background, I hear Denis through the receiver. “Fedor? Is it her? Is she there?”

His voice. Oh god, his voice. So sweet, so … familiar. But the image of him covered in blood flashes through my mind. I shake my head, hold back tears, and run back to my room.

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