Elen’s POV
The doctor found me in the corridor just as <b>I </b>stepped out of the waiting room, my heart clenched right in my chest. He looked calm, professional, but his gaze was softer than before.
“Miss <b>Kovalyova</b>,” he <b>said</b>, removing his surgical cap. The surgery was sessful. Your mother <b>is </b>out of danger for now, but she’ll remain under observation through the night.”
Relief surged through me so violently I nearly staggered.
“Thank you,” I breathed. Thank you so much.”
He nodded with a reassuring smile before heading off, and I pushed open the door to the private room where my mother nowy sleeping.
She looked so fragile, tucked beneath the hospital sheets, her blonde hair streaked with silver fanned out across the pillow. Her face–<b>once </b>full of life,ughter, sarcasm–way now pale, <b>lined </b>with the exhaustion of years she never got to rest. The machines beeped in rhythm with her heartbeat, and <b>the </b>scent of antiseptic couldn’tpletely cover the familiar warmth she carried with her everywhere. She smelled like home. Like dad.
leaned over, pressing a <b>kiss </b>to her forehead. Her skin was cool, soft. The tears came before I could stop them. Hot, messy, ugly. I sat beside her and Jet it out, letting my body fold forward as I cried into the crook of my arm.
“I can’t believe this! I whispered with a bitter <b>scoff</b>, wiping at my eyes. “You’ll kill me when you wake <b>up </b>and find out that I’m married,”
I looked down at her face again, her expression peaceful
“But I know you’ll forgive me. Eventually.”
With onest kiss on her temple, I stood and checked my phone
up with a call <b>right </b>then, surprising Inc.
Niki
1 hesitated. Then answered
“Good evening. Malishka,” came <b>his </b>smooth voice<b>, </b>a hint of amusement threading through the words. I could practically bear his smirk. It was strange–he wasn’t what I’d expected. I’d <b>imagined </b>cold, stoic, maybe a bit of a tyrant. But he had a warmth to him, a mischievousness that seemed carved into his DNA. Not childish like Dmitri. Something older. Smoother, Like he’d seen too much but chose to be amused <b>by </b><b>it </b>instead of bitter.
<b>I </b>shook <b>myself </b>from the thought.
This is contractual<b>. </b><b>Transactional</b>. Stop reading too much into things I’ve only known him for a couple hours and I’m already like this?
“Good evening,” I replied, softer than intended.
There was a pause, Then, “Have you been crying?”
I stiffened, surprised that he noticed. A breathlessugh escaped me. “Should <b>I </b>beughing instead? Celebrating?
After <b>all</b>, wasn’t it ridiculous! That all of this had happened in less than forty–eight hours?
He didn’t answer that, just said, “Your mother will be fine.”
A lump lodged in my throat. “Will she really! The love of her life just died yesterday, you know?”
<b>My </b>voice cracked, raw and broken. I <b>hadn’t </b>dared say it aloud until now. But there it was. The guit<b>. </b>The question. Had I been selfish clinging to her when maybe she wanted to go be with dad?
Niki cleared his throat, and his tone shifted, slightly awkward. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I could tell he didn’t say things like <b>that </b>often
And <b>once </b>again, the image I had built of him over the years–this untouchable<b>, </b>steel–hearted CEO–Bickered Cracked.
I wondered, did he even cry when his mother died! Would he <b>cry </b>if his father died
Probably not if his father did. He seemed to have this steely sort of look in his eyes every time he <b>nced </b>at him<b>. </b><b>I </b>wouldn’t me him though. after all he may be a father, but he <b>wasn’t </b>a dad,
1 hummed a quiet acknowledgment, not knowing what else to say Then
silence.
“Do <b>you </b>want to reschedule this for another day?” he finally asked.
That surprised me further.
I blinked, letting the words sink in.
Wasn’t he the one who said-
“Weren’t you the one who <b>said</b>, and I quote. The early bird catches the worm?” I teased, just barely.
<b>A </b>sigh on the other end: “Well, firstly, you didn’t let me finish that line. Secondly. Tapologize if I rushed you.”
His voice was softer now. Not business–like. Not firtatious.
Heal
I thought about it. Really thought.
No.” I <b>said </b>after a moment. “Let’s do it now.
He paused. I could hear the shift in his <b>breathing</b>.
“Okay thene down. There’ll be a car waiting for you.”
<b>“</b><b>Alright</b>. Thank you,” <b>I </b>replied, the word’s catching in my throat
That <b>thanks </b>
-you wasn’t for the ride.
<b>It </b>was for everything.
Even if it was <b>all </b>just part of <b>a </b>contract
I ended the call and turned back to my mother. I lingered by her side for one more moment, brushing <b>a </b><b>strand </b>of hair off her check.
*Sleep well,” I murmured Tease wake up soon.”
Then I walked out of the room
The hallway lights were too bright. The world felt too fast.
I ducked into the nearby restroom, gripping the edge of the sink as I stared at myself in the mirror. My reflection was haggard. Red–rimmed eyes, dark circles, and a dress that had lost its <b>crispness </b>from this morning’s funeral,
I dabbed water on my face, fixed my bun, then let my hair fall around my shoulders Tinker<b>–</bbed through the tangles, winding as I met a stubborn knot
No time to change. No time to breathe.
I ran my fingers down my ck dress<b>, </b>smoothing it out as best I could. My heels clicked softly as I made my way to the hospital’s front entrance.
But to my shock-
There was no chauffeur.
It was <b>Niki </b>himself, leaning against <b>a </b>sleek ck <b>car</b><b>, </b>one hand in his pocket, the other pocketing his phone.
Why