Page 86 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

But god, I could’ve.

“Was it that bad?”she asked softly, her chin still pressed to my shoulder.

I stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows to my knees, staring at the floor like it had answers carved into it.

“It was horrible,” I said finally, my voice barely more than a scrape.“All these guys from the factory showed up.Pavel, Anton, Oleg, with girls and vodka.Loud as hell.Laughing and eating everything in sight like they owned the place.”

Vera crossed the room, perched beside me, and waited.

I exhaled sharply through my nose.“Dimitri and I barely got a moment alone.And…”

I stopped.I didn’t want to say it aloud.As if voicing it would turn the memory from smoke into iron.

“Go on,” Vera calmly encouraged me.

“…and Dimitri barely kept himself in check while they were around,” I said, the words heavy and sour in my mouth.“It’s like the presence of other people presses against his skin until it breaks.I don’t know if it’s shame or fear or rage, but when they finally left, he just, damn, he lost it.Completely.”

Vera’s hand moved to the middle of my back.A steadying circle, slow and warm, like she was trying to smooth down the ruffled edges of my soul.

“We almost ended things,” I admitted, the truth cutting me on the way out.“It was awful.I know it scared him, how close he came to hurting me.But it scared me too.”

I looked up, eyes catching the faint outline of myself in the windowpane.Just a blur.A tired shape in a world of tired shapes.

“Dimitri isn’t as strong as we are, Vera,” I said.“He’s not used to this.To all these damn lies we have to tell.It’s eating him alive, and if we don’t get a break soon, like, if we don’t get some real time, away from everything, it’s going to end.I can feel it.”

She said nothing.Just kept rubbing that same spot on my back.Round and round.

“And thank you,” I added, quieter now, “for getting us the dacha.It was a kind thing to do.Too bad we didn’t get to be alone.”

The irony of it made something twist in my gut.We’d wanted a pocket of time.A breath.Instead, we got a slow-motion collapse.

“You still love him?”she asked, her voice barely a murmur.

I nodded.It wasn’t even a question.Loving Dimitri felt like breathing.It wasn’t always pleasant, but necessary for survival.

“Then hold on to it,” she said.“That love.No matter what happens.One day, maybe not tomorrow or the next, but one day, it’s going to save you both.”

I blinked.Hard.My chest ached.I wished she wasn’t always right.

I reached for something else, anything else.“Have you seen Mira lately?”

Vera’s hand stilled.

Her posture shifted just slightly, but I caught it.That fractional tightening of the shoulders.

“She…” Vera hesitated.“She decided we should take a break.”

My stomach sank.“Because of this?”

She shrugged, but it was stiff.“It’s just… gotten stressful.Too many secrets.Too many things we can’t say in daylight.She says she needs space.I think she’s scared.”

“Shit,” I muttered.

We sat like that for a while.Side by side.Two people living a version of a life no one had written a manual for.Vera with her careful strength, and me, unraveling thread by thread.

“When,” I asked the window, the floor, the sky, “when will life ever become easier?”

Vera didn’t answer.

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