Page 6 of Porcelain Vows

“I should have been there,” I growl, self-loathing evident in each word. Images flash through my mind— Stella bleeding, calling for me, while I was nowhere to be found. ThePakhan, the protector, absent when it mattered most.

“You couldn’t have known—”

“I should have,” I cut him off. “This is on me, Sasha.”

He falls silent, knowing better than to argue. I see the resignation in his eyes, the subtle shift in his posture. Sasha knows me too well— knows when I’ve made up my mind. After a moment, he speaks again, his voice lower, more measured.

“The men are waiting for orders. We should return to the manor, boss. You need—”

“Nyet!” My response is immediate and final. “I can’t. I’m staying here with my son and my… with Stella.” My voice is unyielding—Iwillbe here for them. For perhaps the first time in my life, I choose to sit with my fear rather than destroy its source.

Sasha studies me for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll have security tripled and bring you a change of clothes.”

“And have Diana bring Bobik’s books.” I don’t take my eyes off my son. “The ones about space. I want to read to him when he wakes up.”

“Konechno. Of course.” Sasha retreats, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

I remain standing guard between the two hospital wards containing my entire world. My face settles into a mask of grim determination.

I’ll be here.

When they open their eyes… I’ll be exactly where I should be. Between them and any threat, ready to burn the world down to keep them safe.

Chapter Three

Stella

The first thing I notice is white.

Blinding, sterile white that burns my retinas even through closed eyelids. I try to move but my body feels heavy, disconnected, like I’m floating in thick syrup. A steady beeping cuts through the fog in my mind—rhythmic, mechanical, insistent.

Slowly, I force my eyes open. The ceiling swims into focus, stark and institutional. My throat feels raw, and there’s a metallic taste in my mouth that makes me want to gag.

Where am I?

I try to remember, to grasp at any recent memory, but there’s nothing. Just… emptiness. A vast blank space where memories should be. Panic starts to rise in my chest as I realize I can’t recall anything— not how I got here, not what happened, not even—

My hand flies instinctively to my stomach, and I feel the firm swell there. Relief floods through me. I’m pregnant. At least I remember that. But everything else is just… gone? Like trying to recall a dream that slips away faster the harder I try to hold onto it.

The beeping speeds up, matching my increasing heart rate. I try to sit up, but my head throbs with such intensity that I have to lie back down. The movement must have attracted attention because someone dressed like a nurse appears in my field of vision, her face professionally concerned.

Why is there a nurse in here?

“You’re awake,” she says, checking something on the monitor beside my bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I…” My voice comes out as a croak. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Blessed Angels Private Hospital. We’re a specialist clinic.”

Specialist clinic?

How did I get here?

Who brought me?

Nothing makes sense.

She pours water into a plastic cup and helps me take small sips. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

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