Page 49 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
Kristopher started running the business when he turned seventeen. He was young, but my father wasn’t going to do it, and Kristopher took on the challenge. I think he did it because he was determined to prove his worth.
My father didn’t care, though. And eventually, Kristopher didn’t seek his approval anymore and just worked hard because he loved it.
My father holds the title, but Kristopher is the one people respect.
But with him so focused on business, I was left with pretty much no one. No parents, and a brother who was always working. It was lonely.
Seeing Emmanuil and his family—it’s such a stark contrast to everything I’ve ever known in this world.
Kira hands me a fresh cocktail, and I sip it, my eyes roaming the party.
Emmanuil is laughing with Katya. He’s teasing her about how she’s so old now her wrinkles are showing. She leans over and punches him in the chest.
“You’re an asshole,” she complains, smiling. “And don’t talk to me about wrinkles when I can see gray hairs sprouting on your head.”
I know there isn’t a single gray hair on his head, but I laugh to myself anyway.
“I’m only gray because of you and your sister, stressing me out so much,” he says defensively, brushing his hand through his hair.
Katya giggles and leans her head against his shoulder, nudging him with her shoulder. “I’m lucky to have two brothers. I mean, one is enough. But like, two is better.”
He wraps his arm around her shoulders and hugs her. “Happy birthday, Katya. I really hope you enjoy your gift. And if you aren’t planning on taking your sister, please don’t leave her with me, because I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Katya leans closer and whispers, “Of course, I’m taking Kira, but don’t tell her that. I’m going to make her work for it.” She giggles.
Emmanuil and I used to joke around like that all the time. He used to be tender and sweet with me. He used to smile at me in ways that made his eyes shine brightly and dimples show in his cheeks.
I haven’t seen those dimples until now, at this party. I haven’t seen this side of him in five years.
He is honestly such an amazing man. He deserves this kind of happiness all the time. He should have smiles that give him dimples every day.
And I’m the reason he doesn’t.
I took it away from him. I know how badly I hurt him.
I know how many times he tried to reach out to me. How he begged and pleaded for me to see him, how he messaged, called, and even handwrote letters to me.
I know how much he tried. And I didn’t reply once.
Not even once.
My heart aches, a sharp, intense pain that makes my breath catch.
Tears spike at the back of my eyes, and I set my drink down on the little table next to the sun lounger and stand up, grabbing my peach kimono and slipping it over my shoulders. My eyes are burning more, and I want to hide away for a moment to gather my thoughts and get control over my emotions. I can’t be caught crying at someone’s birthday party. That’s not very polite of me at all.
I hurry into the house, the soft kimono floating around my body.
Everyone is outside around the pool, so I manage to slip away unseen and into a room just off the hallway. A guest room. Clean, simple, and bright.
I grab a tissue from the box on the table at the side of the bed and wipe my eyes, taking deep breaths to clear my head.
Stop being silly, Anya. Let the past go and focus on the future.
I can’t change what happened.
All I can do is take responsibility for the pain I caused him, own it, accept the consequences, and move on.
One day, he will meet someone who makes him happy. It just won’t be me. No matter how much I still want that.
