Page 66 of The Fire Beneath the Frost

My breath caught.I blinked, once, twice.“What do you mean?”

But I already knew.

She paused her brushing.The silence stretched.

“Everything’s coming apart,” I breathed.“What do you think would happen if it all collapsed?Would we be freer?Would we still have to… live like this?A lie?”

I closed my eyes.And just like that, I was with Dimitri.I saw us in a sunlit kitchen, coffee on the stove, his smile lighting up the room.No fear, no hiding.Just us.It was so clear in my mind it hurt.

Vera set the brush down with a faint clatter.

“It’ll be chaos,” she said, voice even.“That’s how revolutions always start.And usually how they end, too.”

I opened my eyes, watched her through the dim light.

“Maybe we’ll get a little more freedom.But it won’t last.Wicked men always find a way back into power.And it’s almost always men.At least, that’s how it works here.”

“Yeah,” I said, exhaling.“Power doesn’t care who it crushes.”

She finished brushing, set the brush aside, and padded over to the bed in her slip.She slid under the blanket beside me.

We lay there for a moment in silence, both staring up at the ceiling.“So,” I said, nudging her shoulder with mine, “should we start making the babies now or later?”

She barked out a laugh—sharp, genuine—and it infected me.Soon we were both giggling like kids trying not to get caught, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.My ribs hurt by the time we calmed down.

“God,” she said, wiping her eyes.“We’re such a mess.”

“We’re this close to being the perfect Soviet couple,” I said, holding my thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart.“Except for, you know, everything.”

She chuckled, and then I sighed.

“I wish he was here,” I whispered, and the humor drained away.“Dimitri.”

“I know,” she whispered, curling onto her side to face me.“You’re just not man enough for me,” she added with a grin.

“I know,” I replied, and for a moment, it felt like the warmest truth in the world.

But then she sighed too, a heavier sound.“My heart shattered today, when I saw my parents walk through that door.”

I turned my head, watching her in the faint moonlight.

“I knew Mira would be devastated,” she said.“And I looked at her face—really looked—and I saw right through the smile she was trying so hard to wear.And I thought...maybe I should end it.End us.Spare her from this endless performance.”

I didn’t answer right away.She turned onto her back again, staring at the ceiling like it might offer absolution.

“All we ever do is lie to everyone around us,” she said.“Maybe it’s kinder to let it go.”

I rolled onto my side and looked at her.“But what if it does change?”I said.“What if everything they said about the West is true?I’ve heard things.That people like us can live more openly.No disguises.No fake marriages.Just… life.”

She exhaled, and something caught in it—half a sob, half a laugh.

“I bet it’s a lie,” she whispered.“Everything that gives me hope turns out to be one.”

I reached for her hand, warm and soft in mine.

“Vera,” I said, “if things really changed, wouldn’t you want to wake up next to Mira without shame?Wouldn’t you want to walk down the street holding her hand, not worrying who saw you?”

She didn’t answer.

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