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“I won’t be here when you get back.” My voice is flat, distant, like I’ve left it somewhere else entirely.
“What do you mean?” He sounds a bit alarmed.
I press my free hand to my forehead. “Luisa, my nanny, whom I told you was sick, is gone.” My voice catches. “And I have to go right away.”
“Wait for me. I’m coming home now.” He says without another thought.
Twenty minutes later, I hear the front door open. Zasha walks in without a word, his steps slow, careful. He finds me with my arms wrapped tightly around myself.
He crouches in front of me, his hand reaching out, pausing just before it touches mine.
“She raised me alongside my mother,” I say before he can ask. “She was more like a second mother than a nanny. The only person who ever looked me in the eyes and saw me. Not a Delgado Mafia princess, but me. XioMara.”
Zasha’s eyes soften. His fingers curl around mine. “I’ll take you,” he says quietly. “Just tell me whatever you need me to do to ease your pain.”
And somehow, that’s the only thing I needed to hear.
It’s been three days since Luisa’s death.
Three slow, heavy days, and I’ve gone through them like a ghost. Eating only when someone reminds me, dressing without thought, answering only when spoken to.
But Zasha… he hasn’t left my side.
Not once.
I’ve told him every day that he doesn’t have to stay. That I’ll be okay. That he should go back to work, check in with Viktor, and do something other than sit in the same room with me while I stare at the wall.
But every time he looks at me with that steady calmness and says, “I’m right where I need to be.”
And somehow, I believe him.
The day before the funeral, Viktor, Scarlett, Lev, and Alina come to visit. They arrive mid-afternoon without prior notice. They walk through the front door like this is their home, too.
Zasha must’ve told them about my loss.
Viktor is dressed in dark gray, his expression as composed as ever, but his eyes soften when he sees me. Scarlett walks beside him, a small bouquet in her hands. Lev gives me a slight nod, and Alina reaches out gently, her hand brushing against my arm.
“Sorry for intruding,” Alina says in a soft and sympathetic voice. “We just came to say we’re sorry. Zasha told us what happened.”
Viktor looks at Zasha like he’s telling him ‘you did the right thing staying by your wife,’ then turns his gaze back to me. “You’re family now,” he adds. “Which means your loss is our loss too.”
Scarlett steps forward, placing the flowers on the console table before she pulls me into a soft, sincere hug.
Alina joins her, offering the kind of warmth that doesn’t ask for anything in return. “If you need anything,” she says gently, “please reach out. I mean it.”
I manage a small nod, my throat tight.
Their visit is brief, but it leaves something behind.
A warmth.
A sense of belonging that I hadn’t expected to discover in this cold silence of grief.
I watch them go, and for the first time in days, I feel something like steadiness begin to settle beneath the weight I carry.
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Chapter 17