Page 7 of Knocked-up Bratva Bride
Like me, she was simple and down-to-earth. It was one major reason we connected with ease. I’d accepted that she wasn’t perfect (I mean, she threw tantrums at random times as if they were freebies, and her temper bubbled worse than erupting volcanoes). But I had my flaws, and she overlooked mine like I did hers.
Her tinkling laughter followed next. “And they saidIexaggerate. It’s a bag packed for one night. Won’t it have been suspicious if I didn’t stay over?”
“So you are sleeping over?” Jaz chimed from behind her, and when she nodded, they bounced forward to smack their iconic customized high-five, laughing like a bunch of gossiping preschoolers.
Jaz clapped his hands together, forming puppy eyes and a cute pout. “Lee, can I please sleep over in your room too? Pretty please? You know Nana won’t be back tonight, and I’m not sure I want to sleep alone in my room to—”
“Okay, okay. I hear you, and I’m not saying yes because of that cute face.”
Smiling, Katya rolled her eyes and pushed herself further up the bed. “It’s because she knows I’ll fight for you to the death until she has no choice but to say….”
One comment led to another, and in a few minutes, our excited chatters rose to the roof, and we laughed until we cried.
***
The rain cleared up over an hour ago, but the wind was chilly, and it smelled like wet soil and trees. I tugged on my sleeves and pulled them further above my wrist, but my eyes stayed fixed on the glow of the night, tall, gleaming skyscrapers almost touching the stars. No hindrance or limitation—just built for perfection.Achieving perfection.
I leaned forward, feeling the cold seep into the fabric from the steel railings I rested on. The heavens knew I wanted to be like one of those skyscrapers, achieving the zenith of my success, thriving without a care in the world.
A will to lead a better life with my mom, Jaz, and Nana.
The passion and desire burned so deeply that I was taken aback by my own tears.
Behind me, the glass doors squeaked, sliding open, and I wiped my eyes before taking a quick glance over my shoulder.
Quietly, Katya positioned herself beside me, leaned on the railings, and gazed out at the horizon. The wind blew again, tousling her hair westward, and she carried the scent of my vanilla and chai spice shampoo.
Minutes of welcome silence passed between us. Her eyebrows wrinkled, and a sudden gloom settled in her eyes, like she could see the same thing I did when I looked beyond the wet neighborhood to the tall, bright buildings in the distance.
“Crying on the balcony, all alone in the dead of the night. Why does this look like a scene from a movie?”
My lips pulled up in a smile. “It probably is.”
“TheTitanic?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. Rose wasn’t a size 12 marketing executive from Los Angeles, moping on a balcony in a sweatshirt and fuzzy socks.Ihave no Jack, and there’s noship.” My smile faltered because I might not have shared any similarities to the fictional female lead character of the classic, but it did feel like my life was slowly sinking. “That was one of the most historical tragedies ever. Jack drowned, and Rose had to live with such a terrible heartbreak for the rest of her life.”
She didn’t face me, but I caught the apologetic smile she offered. “Perhaps not the best reference, then.”
I looked at her, arching a brow. “Not the best?Kat, that was a terrible reference.”
I took a quick glance into the room to find Jaz still sleeping soundly, tangled in the comforter, and I heard Katya exhale into the night.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly.
“If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”
Her blue eyes sparkled when she finally faced me. “Whatever for?”
“Not attending your graduation? I saw a few posts on social media, but there was no spamming of pictures from you. I assumed you were mad at me.”
“I have no reason to be mad at you, Lena. Like I don’t already know what you’re going through. That’s why you’re out here, isn’t it? You’re thinking again about how to be the superwoman for them. Since high school, you’ve always been Princess Diana.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Diana was Wonder Woman, not Superwoman. You’re getting the references wrong on purpose, aren’t you?”
“I might be.” She smiled and paused. “How is she?”
After my mother’s diagnosis, the only person I cried to on the phone was Katya. She hadn’t been there to comfort me, but she checked in with more phone calls whenever she could.
