Page 13 of Thorns of Lust
Her brothers strode away from her, leaving her alone. Tatiana stared at Adrian’s grave, keeping her spine stiff. At five-foot-seven, she wasn't short, but in her state, she seemed petite. Fragile. Almost breakable.
As if she sensed my gaze, she shifted her head my way. Her pupils dilated, the black almost swallowing her blue. A visible tremble rolled down her body, and for a fraction of a second, I saw emotion pass through those pale blues.
Raw, unfiltered emotion. As if she remembered. Did she?
But then she blinked and returned her gaze to the tomb. As if walls were coming around her, she wrapped her arms around her small waist. She was alone, someplace else where nobody else belonged.
Somewhere where she’d feel nothing but numbness. She’d sealed her heart and her soul. She thought it was the end.
It was only the beginning.
SIX
TATIANA
Five stages of grief.
I might still be stuck on the first stage. I didn’t know. All I could feel was pain. The kind that shredded your soul into pieces. Although there was a glimmer of hope.Before.
The red stain extinguished that hope.
And here I thought I was on my way to recovery.
Low chatter and the scraping of silverware sounded in the distance. The staff rushed back and forth between the kitchen and dining room where guests waited for their food. The quiet melody of the soothing music drifted through the air.
I missed the old Adrian. The one I grew up with. The one I knew before everything got complicated between us. The way he’d make me breakfast or take me to see a Russian Opera performance while fighting the urge to doze off. There weren’t many Russian things I loved but opera was one of them.
Fuck, I miss him.Things were good between us. Until we got married. Then something went wrong and I had yet to figure out what and why. I couldn’t forget all the good years we’d had. All the trust and happiness. Yet now, I was left without it. It was hard to see people around me get their happily-ever-after while I missed out.
I had been avoiding my family like the plague. Isabella and Aurora had been relentless - checking up on me, taking me to my appointments with the therapist and my doctor who was treating my injuries. Their eyes were always on me, watching me with worry and offering advice. I didn’t need any. I just wanted these stages to be complete so I wouldn’t hurt so much. Why did it take so fucking long to go through this grief?
Today, I thought I’d get a reprieve. Vasili and Sasha offered to take me for my final checkup, then decided to treat me to lunch.
So here I was.
My emotions shifted, turning from anger to pain.
My blank eyes stared back at me. Like the ocean, reflecting a soul trapped in its depths where monsters lurked. The harder I reached for the surface, the faster I drowned.
And nobody could see me. Nobody could hear me. My screams were silent.
My face was paler than usual. The bruises had faded to nothing. But on the inside, I still felt them. In my heart, in my soul, even in my bones. It all hurt.
A shudder went through me.
My heart twisted, being yanked out of my chest, inch by inch. Pain clawed at me as I stared at the blood staining my white pants with desperation. With a dull ache deep in my soul.
Something squeezed at my throat, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs.
Lost. It was all lost.
I’d be all alone. Forever. Sasha would eventually marry. Vasili had his own family. Even Alexei had his own family. In this world, men preferred younger women. Virgins. I was neither. The men in this world could have as many women as they wanted. But women, we were only allowed to find love once, like it was some fucking rule. I had my chance for a family with Adrian and it died, along with him, on some godforsaken road in the middle of nowhere. Violently.
Sudden panic expanded in my ribcage.Oh, God.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Oxygen was replaced by a wildfire, eating away at everything in its wake. The feeling of loss choked me with a vengeance. I couldn’t handle it anymore. Four weeks of pretending I was okay. My control cracked.
I snapped, then reacted. Fire burned through my veins. My red Christian Louboutin clutch flew through the air and hit the mirror. Again. Then again. The metal trash can followed. It shattered the mirror, the sound of glass hitting tile echoing through the bathroom.
