He frowned, reached for the bottle that sat on the nightstand, and then shoved one of the pills toward me.
“That’s unnecessary,” I said.
“Take the pill, Daniela,” he said through gritted teeth.
I took it from him, swallowed it down with a sip of water, and then waited.
A few minutes later, I felt some of the pain begin to fade, and I exhaled, happy for some relief from the physical pain if not the emotions.
I looked at Sergei, who stood, his expression still dark.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He frowned.
“I am,” I said, my voice taking on an almost dreamy quality. “I shouldn’t have gone there, so I’m sorry,” I said.
He kneeled, reached for my hand. His calloused fingertips against mine made me smile and I sighed.
“Keep holding my hand,” I whispered.
My eyes drifted closed, and though I heard Sergei’s voice, I didn’t hear what he said, so I stopped trying and gave in to the darkness.
* * *
Sergei
She had apologized to me, told me she was sorry for having been there, and it was I who should have apologized to her.
I had failed her, had allowed her to be hurt, and now I was responsible for her father’s death. I would have to reckon with both of those failures, hope that she would forgive me.
So I again stayed by her side as I had before. Didn’t move, and I wouldn’t, not unless she told me to.
She slept for another couple of hours, peaceful, and I watched her as she woke.
“You thirsty?” I asked after watching her for a few long moments. She nodded quickly and then sat up, to sip water.
I handed her the water, and watching her grimace as she tried not to move only made me want to take her pain even more than I already wished I could.
“I’m fine,” she said, though she didn’t meet my eyes. She finished her water and then sat the cup on the nightstand, moving gingerly, tentative.
Then she locked eyes with me. The moment was here.
“Daniela…” I trailed off before I found my voice. “I’m sorry. Santo’s dead,” I said flatly, trying to prepare myself for her reaction.
A tear slid down her cheek and I couldn’t stop myself from wiping it away.
“So that’s it?” she said, her voice distant.
I nodded. She looked back at me, her expression one I couldn’t read. My heart began to pound, and driven by the desire to make her understand, I started speaking.
“I’m not sorry he’s dead, Daniela,” I said. I paused and she didn’t respond, so I kept going. “But I’m sorry if you’re hurt about it. I never want that, Daniela.”
She watched me, and I hoped she heard my sincerity. A moment later, she spoke.
“I understand,” she whispered.
“You do?” I asked, unbelieving.
She nodded. “I think this was always going to happen. Santo made his choices just as I made mine. I don’t blame you,” she said.
“You don’t?” I asked, the hope that was blooming in my chest making it impossible for me to form a more coherent question.
“No,” she said.
“And you don’t hate me?” I asked tentatively, watching her.
She smiled. “Hate you? Sergei, I love you with all my heart. Love you in a way I never thought would be possible,” she said.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. “I love you, Daniela,” I said. “Forever.”
* * *