TATIANA
There was a time before you.
There was time with you.
Now there's time after you.
I never counted on after you. I'd never be ready to deal with the time after you.
"There shouldn't have been an after you," I whispered as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Two weeks without him seemed like an eternity. My fingers trembled as I reached for my phone sitting on a little nightstand.
I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say goodbye.
The words played on repeat. My heart thundered against my chest in a painful beat. I stared at my phone, the time staring back at me. Time was so important before. Now, it meant nothing. There was too much of it.
I set my phone down on the table, but my eyes never left it. I wanted to say goodbye. I needed to hear his voice. Just one more time. I picked up the phone again and I dialed his number. My fingers slowly traced the keyboard of my phone, pushing the digits that represented my husband's number.
His name appeared on the screen with the picture of our first event at The Den of Sin together. I must have lost my mind because I completely forgot I could have just pulled up Adrian's name to dial him.
The call went through and I held my breath at the first ring. Then second. On the third, he picked up.
"This is Adrian. I'm not around. Leave a message, and I'll call you back."
The same voice. The same light notes to his speech. His voicemail doesn't know he's dead, I thought with a strangled sob. If I started crying now, I'd break down. I had to keep it together.
No time to cry, my brothers' motto.
The voicemail ended. And like a glutton for punishment, I dialed his number again. I listened to the voicemail again and again. Each time I held my breath as the line rang, expecting Adrian to pick it up. Against all odds, I hoped he'd pick up the phone.
I didn't know how many times I'd listened to his voicemail when I finally put the phone down.
The psychologist at the hospital told me there were five stages of grief. I was still in denial. My brain couldn't process my husband's death.
Numbness and pain was all I felt. But not even physical pain compared to the pain I felt deep inside my chest. A pain that made it hurt to breathe.
I stared at my reflection. My body seemed to be in better shape than my heart.
My forearm had a slash down it. My shoulder was slowly but surely healing. My cheek had a gash on it. My left eye was bruised purple. My clothes hid bruises and cuts all over my body.
Two weeks. A car accident. A life forever altered.
My brothers dug for information to figure out what exactly happened that day. They hacked into city surveillance but found nothing. They questioned the hospital staff to find out who brought me in. Who saved me?
Yet, they kept running into roadblocks.
They learned nothing. Only that Adrian died in the explosion.
There was nothing left of him. An explosion. His body burned to ashes.
Along with my life. My memories. How did I survive? I remembered the SUV smashing into the back of Adrian's car. I remembered our car flying through the air. Rolling. Rolling. Rolling.
Screams and pain. Then blank. Nothing. Just darkness.
Except for the nightmares that came when I slept, which wasn't very often. I hated the nightmares.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Focus on the good. That was what the therapist said. Focus on the good. I survived. Maybe, just maybe, I could have what I'd been begging for. A baby of my own.
My trembling hand hovered over my flat belly. Maybe God would grant me this small mercy and not leave me alone. My period was late. A whole week late.
I was never late. It had to be it. I was pregnant; I was sure of it.
The timing was bad. But the blessing would be welcomed. Something of Adrian's to keep under my heart and with me. I'd love it enough for both of us. Our baby would want for nothing. A tremor rolled through me and pain squeezed my throat.
I swallowed a shuddering breath, trying to keep my shit together.
"Please," I whispered to the empty room. To my reflection. To anyone who was listening. "Just don't leave me alone."
My voice cracked, the empty penthouse daunting. Every little sound echoed through it. When Adrian was here, there was always noise around, even when he wasn't around. His gadgets and computers beeping. Now, it was nothing. Just deadly silence, echoing the death in my soul.
I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. If I started crying, it'd be hard to stop. No time for tears, Vasili's voice whispered when I was a little girl.
You're a Nikolaev.
Was I? I'd taken Adrian's last name, so maybe that no longer counted.
The year-end approached and promised loneliness. Tears. Dull pain somewhere deep down where I didn't dare to go. The lump in my throat grew, bigger and bigger, until my airway clogged. The back of my eyes burned. My nose reddened. An ache swelled in my lungs until it suffocated.
I felt alone. I was alone.
The pain was fresh but something deep down inside me dulled. The sharp, stabbing agony in my chest became a constant companion.
A baby would ease it, I thought desperately. Surely if there was a God, he'd grant me that.
For the first time ever, I prayed. I closed my eyes and prayed. For a baby. For inner peace. For the pain to go away. And all the while hot tears pricked at my eyes.
"Tatiana." My brother's voice drifted through the air and my eyes snapped open to meet his eyes in the mirror. The coldest eyes. The most broken eyes. Until recently.
Alexei.
The most fractured one of us. Although his wife mended his wounds.
He even cracked a smile occasionally. If he could heal, then so could I.
Right? Then why did I feel so hopeless?
"Are you ready?"
I raised a brow, my lips curving into a bitter smile. "Am I ready to bury my husband's non-existent body?" My lungs felt tight. My voice sounded acidic. I resented his happiness. I resented Vasili's happiness. I fucking resented everyone. "Sure, I was born ready for it. I am a Nikolaev after all."
I should have known in our world something always got fucked up.
Someone always died. Father died. Alexei's life was hell because of my mother. Revenge was an ongoing theme in this life - mafia or not. Someone got to Adrian. It was the reason for the car chase. It had to be.
The question was why?
"You hate the world right now." Alexei's voice pulled me away from the fog of unknowns.
"I don't—" I cut myself off. There was no sense denying it. I did hate the world. I hated that I couldn't remember much from that night, leaving me with a million questions. I hated that the last words from Adrian that I remember were said in anger.
A bitter laugh slipped through my lips, sounding almost hysterical. My future died that night.
Alexei's gaze, pale blue like mine, was heavy and dark, pinning me to the spot as my heart shuddered.
"He wasn't as good for you as we hoped," he said in a cold voice, sending a shock wave through me. "Not anymore."
Our gazes met. My brows furrowed. Why would he say that?
Shadows in his eyes danced and threatened. He held my stare, as if he waited. Waited for what though?
"Alexei, you know something." It wasn't a question. My voice shook worse than my hands. The oxygen failed to make its way into my lungs. My blood started buzzing in my ears. Emotions circled like a tornado, threatening and dark. One wrong move and it'd swallow me whole. "Tell me," I rasped.
His jaw ticked and his gaze dropped to the ground. As if he was hiding something.
I opened my mouth, but before I could question him, Vasili and Sasha walked in.
"You ready?" Vasili asked and it took all of my self-restraint not to snap at him.
Instead, I closed my eyes and prayed.
My sunglasses hid most of my face. My black dress fluttered with the breeze.
Red roses covered the black shiny casket. An empty casket. There was nothing left of Adrian to bury. Another bouquet of red roses was thrown on the casket. The color was stark against the shiny black, reminding me of blood.
Blood spilled. Blood wasted.
I stared at the date carved into the fancy niche plaque.
The date of his death. It'd soon be turned into just another crypt. It'd be a cold stone, just like his memories.
The sky darkened and the large clouds moved, hovering above me. The first raindrop was only an opening. Another followed, then another, until it became a constant pitter-patter. People slowly dispersed, running for cover.
Absent-mindedly, I noticed Vasili opening an umbrella to shelter his wife and children.
Sasha opened his umbrella and took two steps towards me, sheltering me from the rain. The pitter-patter became louder. Puddles began forming fast around me, and I watched the water surround me. Dampness seeped through my dress and into my bones.
Drowning.
This felt like drowning amongst the living.
Fourteen days since the accident. My brothers had questions too, and I had no answers for them. No idea how I got there. No idea how I survived the explosion that left no trace of him. It left me with nothing - no memory, no clues. Nothing.
Nothing felt real anymore.
Not the casket. Not the thorned roses wrapped around it. Not the people who stood surrounding the gravesite.
"We should go," Sasha murmured. The rites were read, the final blessings given, final goodbyes said. From all except me. I stood still, staring at the eternal resting place covered in flowers. "You need to rest."
Except, nightmares and voices came when I slept. Whispers. Ghosts.
I swallowed, watching the coffin disappear into the tomb until I could no longer see it. My hands shook. My temples throbbed. But it was nothing compared to the clenching of my heart. The suffocating pain, dragging me deeper and deeper into a dark abyss.
The lump in my throat grew bigger until it was impossible to breathe.
Until I felt nothing. Just a numbness, which spread through my veins. The silence grew heavy, but I accepted it. It was better than those whispers I heard in my dreams. Tormenting me.
The cool breeze swept through the graveyard, soaking the rain into my dress, which clung to my legs. I felt like I was suffocating. There wasn't enough space. There wasn't enough oxygen.
There wasn't enough room for the living and the dead.
A shuddering breath left me as fear rolled down my spine. I had never been scared, knowing my brothers would always be there to save me. But now I feared these demons were unbeatable. And the secrets Adrian left behind were punishable.
"Tatiana, let's go," Sasha repeated. Another shuddering breath filled my lungs.
Black suits slowly drifted away, taking their black hearts with them. The sea of underworld men came to pay respects. Russian. Italian. American.
Canadian. Colombian. A sea of black, which I'd always been a part of. No matter how much my brothers sheltered me.
My eyes flickered to my brother, seeing him through the fog of grief. It felt like I wasn't really here. But then I was.
"We have to go home, Sister," Sasha said softly. I didn't want to go back home. I didn't want to be alone. Yet, I felt so fucking alone no matter where I was or who I was with. Except for the damn ghosts haunting me.
They were in my mind, thriving. Torturing me. And when I slept, my mind revolted. I couldn't understand my dreams… memories… or paranoia.
"You'll stay with me."
I shook my head wordlessly. I couldn't let anyone hear my dreams. I couldn't let anyone know.
My mind immediately revolted, remembering last night's dream.
I smiled so much that my cheeks ached. But it was a good feeling.
"Look, Adrian. Our baby," I beamed, glancing up from the hospital bed to find my husband's eyes. Except, displeasure stared back at me.
Instinctively, I shifted my body, shielding the baby.
"Adrian?" I asked, hesitantly. "What's the matter?"
"I told you," he hissed as he took a step forward. Then another. And a dark, looming shadow clouded over me, stealing my happiness. "I told you, Tatiana. No children."
"But it's a blessing," I rasped, my voice hoarse with emotions.
"No, it's a curse," he bellowed. "A poisonous thorn."
His face twisted. I didn't recognize him. His hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing. Harder and harsher. My lungs seized.
"P-P-Please." My body shook. I held my baby, but I could feel my strength leaving me. I didn't want to drop my newborn miracle. Shoving my elbow against my husband's ribs, I fought. I was a Nikolaev. We fight. We never give up.
Then Adrian's big hand wrapped around my baby's throat and terror, unlike any I'd ever felt before, shot through me.
But before he could take one squeeze.
Bang.
Dead eyes.
"Tatiana."
I startled, jumping in my spot. My body shook. My ears buzzed.
Adrenaline swam through my veins, as if the nightmare was real. My oldest brother's hands came to my shoulders and squeezed as if he tried to pass me some of his own strength. It wasn't enough.
My mind was tormenting me. Maybe I was crazy like our mother.
"You have to say goodbye, Sestra." Vasili's voice came from behind me.
It had been only two weeks. How did one say goodbye in two weeks? I needed more time. I needed answers.
"Tell us what you need." Sasha attempted a different tactic. I didn't bother turning around to see them. I was scared they'd see something in my eyes that would reveal my demons. "Whatever you need, it's yours."
I didn't answer. Instead, I let the pain and doubts fester inside me. The ache burned through my veins, leaving me empty and confused. And I was certain it had something to do with the accident.
Except, I couldn't fucking remember.
So I remained, standing in my spot.
"I'll be right there," I choked out. "Just wait for me in the car."
They shared a fleeting glance, then Vasili nodded and they left me.
Their footsteps faded with each step they took against the century old stone of the St. Louis Cemetery, leaving me alone with the ghosts and the dead.
With him.
I stared at the word husband and friend for the longest time, searching for something. Something pricked my mind, but it refused to come forward.
My skin prickled. My gaze caught a movement to my side. A tall figure stood by a car, hands in his pockets and his gaze on me. It touched my skin and a shudder rolled down my spine.
My brows furrowed and I winced from pain. There was a familiarity about him. I'd seen him before. I was certain of it, but I couldn't remember where.
Who is he? I thought as I brought my hand to my cheek and gently massaged the fading bruise. His eyes followed my movement and darkened as a muscle ticked under his stubbled jaw.
Who was this man? He seemed familiar. Important.
Now I wished my brothers had remained behind so I could ask them.
The man was tall. Taller than most men, including my brothers. Dressed in all black and a gray coat that reached to his knees. He looked elegant. Dark.
Dangerous. Familiar.
The feeling of familiarity pulled on my consciousness.
The voice in my head. Stay alive, Tatiana. For me. Stay alive, moya luna.
It called to me - calling me his moon. His eyes were intense, even from this distance. There was something uncomfortable in his dark gaze -borderline aching. It was as if he demanded something from me, but I didn't know what.
A feeling I couldn't shake off consumed me. Except, I couldn't quite pinpoint it.
Moya luna. Russian. The voice was speaking Russian. Could it have been Adrian? Except, he hadn't called me that since that night in the gazebo. It was always pipsqueak and I had outgrown that nickname.
The intense stranger watched me, his thick brows drawing over his eyes and something about him kept dragging me into his savage darkness. His dark eyes reminded me of the harshness of Russian winters - merciless and bone chillingly cold.
I swallowed, then glanced around me. Everyone was gone. Just the stranger and I remained.
With a shake of my head, I returned my eyes to the crypt.
"Goodbye, Adrian," I muttered softly, then rushed in my brothers' direction. The stranger's eyes remained on me like a thorn in my skin.
Strangely enough, it was almost a pleasurable pain.
Maybe I had turned masochistic and sought pain to torture myself.