Page 298 of Ruins
“Vasi?” Pietro’s voice comes through and my wife all put tosses the canvas between her legs and reaches for the phone. Normally this would cause a ping of jealousy, but my Vasilisa has lost so much, she needs as much family as she can get.
“Pietro, how are you?” she asks concern etched on her perfect face.
“I’m well. Santo told me about what happened, and I wanted to apologize I wasn’t there,” his voice apologetic through the phone.
“It’s okay, I’m okay,” she says softly.
“No, you’re like my sister Vasilisa, I owe you an explanation. After guarding Elena, I went to see the sister of my friend I told you about.”
“Oh,” Vasilisa breathes, “Is she okay?”
“She’s doing alright, I’ll be here with her for a bit and check in on my family, I’ll be back in a few months’ time.”
“Okay, you be safe.”
“Of course, you, too.”
She ends the call her eyes flicking toward me, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you.”
She slips her phone back in her purse, so I take her hand and intertwine our fingers before she can death grip the canvas again.
The rest of the drive is silent, save for the occasional hum of some passing vehicle or the wind rustling the leaves along the road. Vasilisa stares out the window, deep in thought.
As we pull up to our estate, she finally lifts her gaze from the scenery and looks at me. Her blue eyes swim with unshed tears, and I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Are you ready?” I ask her softly. She nods and takes a deep breath that sounds dangerously shaky but gets out of the car, nonetheless.
Our home looms over us as we walk towards the front door. It’s been a while since we’ve last been here–too busy running from our memories and horrors of the past.
Mrs. Keen, opens the door before we even get to the first step. She looks tired, but her eyes still hold that same warmth they always did as she beams at me, my heart softens.
"Welcome back," Mrs. Keen greets us the moment we step inside.
Vasilisa rushes forward, throwing herself into the woman’s arms, her small frame trembling with emotion. Mrs. Keen holds her just as fiercely, her eyes damp as she strokes my wife’s hair.
We retreat to the kitchen, settling into the warmth of familiarity—hot tea, quiet laughter, the comfort of home. Mrs. Keen and Vasilisa clutch onto each other like family, and for a brief, bittersweet moment that makes me wonder how my wife and mother would have been if they had the chance to meet.
When we finish catching up, we move toward the pantry. Vasilisa clutches the canvas tightly between her trembling hands, her nervous gaze darting to the elevator. Her body shakes slightly, and I feel the anger rise—that something so simple has become a fear she has to conquer.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders, my grip firm but gentle. "It’s just like the one at work," I remind her, rubbing slow circles into her back, trying to soothe her.
She shakes her head, tears brimming in those beautiful eyes that still undo me every damn time.
"I can’t go in there, Santo," she whispers, voice raw, breaking something inside of me.
I can’t have that.
Determined to help her overcome this hurdle, I hold her face gently between my hands, forcing her to look into my eyes. “Will you do this for me Dea?” I ask, pleading with her.
She tucks her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes filled with both weariness and love as she shakily nods her head.
I release her face and press my thumb on the call button, the elevator doors slide open. I take the covered canvas from her trembling hands and place it against the wall inside. Standing between the doors, I wait for her to enter. She looks at the elevator hesitantly before taking a tentative step inside. I nod encouragingly at her and feel anger boiling inside me at the thought that she has to overcome something so simple because of those bastards.
Feeling Vasilisa’s warm hand grasps mine, I catch her gaze and notice the concern in her furrowed brow.
“Are you okay?” she asks, now standing in between the doors of the elevator with me.
I smirk at her small success and nod, squeezing her hand and pulling her the rest of the way in. The doors slide closed behind us and I feel her hand shake slightly in mine. I glance at her, noticing the paleness of her face and the wide-eyed look she gives to the floor.
