Page 256 of Ruins
I watch, captivated, as she effortlessly slips into her native tongue, her words fluid and bright. The waitress laughs, nodding along, and Vasilisa’s laughter follows—soft, warm, like music filling the room.
I don’t understand a word they’re saying.
I hate that.
Iwantto.
I want to know what she’s saying, what makes her smile like that, what makes her eyes shine so brightly. I want to exist fully in her world, not just as her husband, but as someone who understands every part of her.
I sit there, silent, listening.Memorizing.
And in that moment, I decide—I’m going to learn Russian.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
When the food arrives, Vasilisa wastes no time, picking up a forkful of pelmeni dumplings and taking a bite. The second she does, her eyes flutter shut, a soft moan of delight escaping her lips.
“Pelmeni is one of my favorites,” she sighs, pure bliss in her voice.
I smirk. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to tell Julian.”
Her eyes snap open. “He could make this?” she asks, practically vibrating with excitement.
“If I ask, yes. He’ll make it happen.”
Her face lights up, and she takes another bite, savoring the moment. “This is quite honestly the best gift ever. Thank you.”
I shake my head, leaning in slightly. “This isn’t the gift.”
She pauses mid-chew, hand covering her mouth as she swallows. “It isn’t?”
I smirk.My girl is adorable.
“Definitely not, Mia Dea. I have more in store for you tonight.”
Her eyes widen slightly, curiosity flickering across her face, but she doesn’t press me for details. Instead, the evening flows naturally—easy conversation, shared laughter, the warmth of something unspoken passing between us.
She finishes her meal with a slice of chocolate pie, the final indulgence that makes her sigh with pure satisfaction.
When we step outside, the city greets us with a cool breeze, alive with golden streetlights and the hum of distant traffic. Vasilisa nestles into her seat as I start the car, her gaze drifting out the window, lost in thought. I glance at her every few moments, admiring the way the city lights play across her features, turning her into a living work of art.
And she has no idea what’s coming next.
Eventually, we reach our destination—a small, private observatory on the outskirts of town, nestled far from the city lights. I purchased it long ago, for nights when I craved solitude, silence, and the infinite clarity of the stars above.
Vasilisa steps out of the car, her head tilting back as she takes in the domed building.
“An observatory?” she questions, curiosity laced in her voice.
I shrug lightly, leading her toward the entrance. “There’s something about looking at the stars that makes everything else seem… smaller somehow.”
The moment we step inside, her breath catches. Above us, the sky unfolds like a masterpiece, the velvety black expanse of night pierced by thousands of shimmering stars. She gasps, her eyes wide with wonder, the reflection of the cosmos dancing in her gaze.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close as we stand beneath the endless sky.
“I wanted you to see this,” I murmur, my voice low, intimate. “Because there’s a story I read when I was younger… about a sun god who fell in love with a beautiful goddess. And because he loved her so much, he placed her among the stars so she could shine brightly forever.”
She turns her face toward me, her blue eyes reflecting the starlight.
