Page 138 of Konstantin
My heart stops.
This can’t be happening. I won’t let it end like this.
But then I feel it: a faint pulse. Too weak, too fragile.
Panic surges through me. She can’t die.
I won’t let her die.
I tear my shirt off, tying it around the gashes on her arm, before I cradle her against my chest, yelling for Maksim and Dmitri to call my doctor to get everything ready for an emergency while I rush back out to the SUV.
“Tessa, please,” I whisper, my voice hoarse as I pull her close, securing her in the back with me, Maksim focused at the wheel. “You have to be okay. You have to live, moya l’vitsa. I won’t let you leave me.”
My lips brush her forehead, a shudder of pure agony ripping through me as my heart explodes. My fingers trace her cheek, as if touching her is the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.
If she dies, I die with her. There is no future without her. Not anymore.
EMILIA
I wake up groggy, my head heavy and my thoughts muddled. The soft beeping of a machine beside me tugs at my awareness, but the warmth in my hand is what draws me fully back to consciousness. My fingers twitch instinctively, curling into the comforting pressure, and my eyes shift open slowly.
Konstantin.
His eyes lock on to mine the moment they meet. The relief that washes over his face is unmistakable, and it catches me off guard, knotting something in my chest.
For a moment, all I can do is stare at him, absorbing the worry and tenderness in his gaze.
“Where are we?” I ask, the words rough as I try to adjust to the unfamiliarity of my surroundings.
“Private hospital. One of mine.” He takes my hand with utter gentleness. “Are you in pain? I can get you more medication.”
I shake my head, my throat tightening as a sharp ache sinks deeper. But as I look down at my bandaged upper arm, it hits like a flash of lightning tearing through me.
I did this.
I hurt myself again.
The memories flood in. Gerardo’s betrayal, the lies, everything falling apart around me.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. The world felt like it was closing in, and for a moment, I needed to escape it. I needed control over something, anything, when everything else felt uncontrollable.
After the session, I tried to ignore the darkness creeping in, but the pain of it all became too much to carry. My chest was tight with anger, sadness, fear. It was all clawing at my insides, fighting for space. My mind raced, caught in the chaos of too many emotions to make sense of. And in that moment, cutting felt like the only way to stop drowning in the flood of it all.
Some people wonder why. Why would someone hurt themselves?
But it’s like the physical pain overshadows the emotional, like a way to center yourself when you’re too overwhelmed to find a way out.
I wasn’t thinking clearly, and it felt like the only way to breathe again. To make the pain in my heart match the one I could control in my body.
My eyes flutter shut as shame surges through me, leaving only the raw truth behind.
I undid years of progress in one single moment.
I stop the tears before they can fall, refusing to let them break through. I won’t cry. But everything hurts. After all the effort it took to stop doing that to myself, I’ve fallen off a cliff, and now I have to climb all the way back up.
“I’m so sorry.” His tone is thick with regret, a painful, vulnerable sound that breaks something inside me. His thumb traces the back of my hand. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have had any razors in the house.” He buries his face in our joined hands.
“No, baby. Look at me.” My heart constricts in my chest as I pull his knuckles to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to them, holding his gaze as I do. “This is on me. Only me.Idid that. And honestly, in the state I was in, I would’ve found something else to do it with.”
