Page 93 of Porcelain Vows

“Stop!” The gun steadies, pointing more deliberately at her own temple. “I’m not here to talk. I’m here to end it.”

My breath catches and I force myself to inhale carefully.

Is she being serious?

“Sofia, please,” I say, keeping my voice even despite my surging adrenaline levels. The alarm bells in my head are going off, screaming danger from every possible direction. Whatever she wants to do with that gun, I don’t see how it could end well. “Whatever you’re going through right now, it can get better. There are people who can help—”

“Help?” Another hollow laugh. “I have nothing left. My father is dead. Gone forever. The only person who ever cared about me.”

This admission sends a surge of guilt through me. I may not have deliberately ended her relationship with Aleksei, but I can’t help feeling responsible. And now, to know that she’s lost her father, too… my heart goes out to her.

“I know what loss feels like,” I say carefully. “I lost both my parents, too.”

“One more step and I’ll pull the trigger,” she warns as I attempt to move closer. “I mean it, Stella. I didn’t come here for rescue.”

From the path behind me, Polina lets out a sudden cry— a sharp, piercing sound that echoes through the trees. Something about the baby’s wail triggers something deep in my mind, a cascade of images flooding through me with stunning clarity.

A baby crying. Not Polina— another infant, wrapped in a blanket. My parents forced to make an impossible choice,the weight of poverty crushing them. A decision made in desperation, not in cruelty.

The baby— my sister— being handed to a couple as my mother wept. Her name had been Boyana.

Years later, Uncle Igor, drunk at Christmas, letting the secret slip. “Your sister was given to another family.” My parents’ horrified expressions. The hasty exit. The family secret never mentioned again.

The memory of my uncle’s revelation floods back in seconds, though they feel like a lifetime.

Boyana.

The imaginary friend I spoke to throughout my childhood wasn’t imaginary at all. She was real— and she’s standing before me now, a gun to her head. Sofia is my sister.

“Sofia, please,” I say, my voice breaking. “Don’t do this. Your father may be gone, but you’re not alone. You have… family.”

She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “I have no one. That’s why I’m here.”

“You have me,” I whisper. “I need my sister.”

Her hand falters, the gun lowering slightly. “What did you say?”

“Boyana,” I continue, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on my tongue. “That’s what our parents named you before they gave you up for adoption. That’s why I’ve talked to ‘Boyana’ in my head my whole life. I was talking to you, my sister, even when I didn’t know you were real.”

Sofia stares at me, suspicion warring with something in her expression that looks like hope. “I’ve heard that crap before. Trying to create a connection to talk someone down.”

“It’s not a tactic,” I insist, taking another careful step forward. “Don’t you recall what I told you that day… in that warehouse?” I pause as her expression flickers. I think I struck a nerve; I’m pretty sure it was Sophia who dealt the blow that knocked me unconscious and took my memory from me.

“You would have said anything that day,” she mutters. “You were trying to save your own ass.”

I shake my head. “No, Sophia. If you and Gianni hadn’t abducted me, I would have found you, spoken to you about what I had learned. We share the same parents. The Novikovs adopted you when our biological parents couldn’t afford to keep you. They were struggling to feed themselves, let alone a child.”

Something shifts in her eyes— recognition, perhaps, or at least doubt about her certainty. “How would you know this?”

“My uncle Igor told me years ago, but my parents brushed it off. I never forgot it, though. I kept you here,” I tap my head, “in my thoughts. I believed you were imaginary until… my friend found out the truth.”

I think back to my call with Hannah, when she told me about my shared history with Sophia. And how Aleksei was involved in my parents’ deaths. I push that thought away now and go on.

“My friend Hannah. She works in secret service. She has… connections. I asked her to find out more about my past, and she uncovered that… we are sisters, Sofia. You’re my sister and you have a family.” I gesture behind me, where Maria waits with the children. “Family is complicated, Sofia. I understand that betterthan most. But it’s also precious. Please, don’t throw away the chance for us to know each other.”

Her gaze moves past me to where Maria stands with Bobik and Polina— a grandmother, a disabled boy, a baby. A family. Something naked and yearning crosses her face.

“You’re not alone,” I repeat softly. “You have me. You have family.”

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