Page 157 of Porcelain Lies

Aleksei

I lie beside Stella.

The faint scent of her shampoo mixes with the lingering traces of our shared heat. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, each touch stirring something unfamiliar inside me. Normally, I’d be gone by now, the walls rebuilt, the distance restored. But tonight, I can’t seem to move.

“This was… amazing,” she begins softly, her voice hesitant.

“Da,” I reply, an unfamiliar softness edging my tone.

Silence settles between us, but it’s not the awkward kind I’m used to. It’s… comfortable. Almost peaceful. I stare up at the ceiling, the shadows dancing with the faint light filtering through the curtains.

“You don’t have to stay,” she says, but there’s a question in her words.

“I know,” I murmur. Yet I make no move to leave.

She turns her head to look at me, those striking green eyes searching mine. “Then… why are you still here, Aleksei?”

Good question. One I don’t have an answer for. Or perhaps I do, but admitting it feels dangerous. Uncomfortable.

I let out a slow breath. “You make it… different.”

“Different how?” There’s genuine curiosity in her voice.

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t talk about my past. Not with anyone.”

She rests her chin on my shoulder, her gaze unwavering. “And why is that?”

A part of me wants to shut this down, to seal off the vulnerable parts and fortify the barriers. But another part, one that’s grown louder since she came into my life, pushes against that. “My childhood was… not ideal.”

She waits, patient, not pushing.

“My mother,” I begin, the name catching in my throat. “She disappeared when I was ten. One day she was there, singing me lullabies. The next, gone without a trace.”

Stella’s fingers grow still on my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“My father… Rodion, was a vicious man. A drunk.” The memories surface bitterly. “He took his anger out on me. Beatings were… frequent.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “That’s horrible.”

I shrug, a habitual gesture to mask the old pain. “Diana tried to protect me when she could. Being twins, we looked out for each other.”

“Diana,” she repeats. “You’re close?”

“She’s the only family I have left,” I say simply. “And Bobik, of course.” I smile at the thought of him, even though so many things about his existence are not ideal. But I love my son. I’ll never stop loving him. And I’ll move mountains to make sure he gets what he needs.

“He’s a great kid.” Her lips curl into a smile, though her eyes are still teary. “I bet you were too.”

I shake my head. “I was angry. Very angry.”

“Who could blame you?” She turns her head to look at me more clearly. “To go through all of that… it must have been tough.”

“It’s what I put others through that was the problem.” I stare up at the ceiling thinking back to a time when I forged my path in blood.

“You were a boy, Aleksei. You can’t be blamed for doing what you needed to survive.”

I shrug a bit. “I wasn’t afraid of blame. I loved it. The violence. The power. Eventually, the beatings stopped — my father knew it was just a matter of time before I killed him.”

She shudders against me.

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