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I let the quiet settle again, feeling the shape of it between us.
There’s so much I don’t know. So much he’s locked away, tucked behind his unreadable eyes and sharp edges.
And maybe… maybe it’s not just about being cold or distant. Maybe it’s about survival. Suddenly, I realize Zasha has been building walls his whole life just to stay standing.
The realization makes my chest ache unexpectedly.
We finish eating, the last bites disappearing as the plates empty. Without a word, Zasha stands, gathering up the dishes with efficient, practiced movements.
I blink, startled again.
He’s doing the dishes?
I watch from my seat as he moves to the sink, sleeves pushing up over his forearms, muscles flexing slightly as he runs the water and starts to rinse the plates.
The sight is oddly… tender.
Here is this gruff, lethal man — the Bratva enforcer everyone fears, the man who can shut down a room with a single glare — standing quietly at the sink, methodically washing breakfast dishes like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
I wrap my arms around myself, heart tugging in a way I’m not prepared for. There’s something intimate about it, something quietly human. Something that makes me want, desperately, to know the man behind the hard lines and the gruff voice.
When he finishes, he dries his hands on a towel and glances over his shoulder at me. Our eyes meet for the briefest second — and then he looks away, setting the towel down with careful precision.
The moment slips away, leaving behind only the silence.
“So,” he says quietly, his voice steady, businesslike, “what are your plans for the day?”
I blink, caught off guard by the question.
For a moment, I almost tell him I have no plans — but then I realize, with a faint wave of frustration, that if I stay here all day, I’m going to lose my mind.
“I think…” I say slowly, setting my coffee mug down, “I’ll go back to my parents’ house to grab some of my things. And…” I let out a small laugh, shaking my head, “Honestly, I’ll go stir-crazy if I sit here doing nothing all day.”
Zasha’s mouth tugs faintly at the corner — not quite a smile, but not a frown either.
“I’m sorry I can’t keep you company.” He says simply while putting away our cups with precise movements. “I have business, and won’t be home early. Don’t wait up.”
His tone is neutral and cool, with the words free of anything personal. It feels like a door softly closing between us.
I nod, smoothing my hands over the robe tied around my waist.
“Okay,” I murmur, forcing my voice to stay light. “I’ll see you later, then.”
He gives a small, polite nod, stepping back slightly to give me space.
As I head upstairs to change, I can feel the chill of his distance wrapping around me like a shadow. By the time I’m dressed and walking out the door, my heart aches in a way I hadn’t expected.
But there is no need to take his coldness personally; after all, this isn’t a love match. This is an alliance. A deal I personally brokered. But still, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to reach the man buried under all that coldness.
I pull into the long driveway of the Delgado estate, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just slightly as I step out of the car. Inside, everything is bright and bustling — the soft murmur of staff, the clink of glasses being polished in the kitchen, the rustle of fresh linens.
Heading upstairs to my room, I walk through the space with a tinge of sadness in my heart. I glance around to ensure that everything I need to move to my new home.
While stuffing a small bag, there’s a soft knock at the door. “Mija?”
I turn, smiling faintly as my mother steps into the room, elegant as ever in a fitted cream dress, her dark hair pinned back in a sleek twist. She crosses to me, her sharp eyes softening as she takes in my face.
“Was told you are around,” Mom murmurs, brushing a light hand over my arm. “How was your first night in your new home?”