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“You need help.”
He tells me.
My stomach drops as I shake my head quickly.
“No, I don’t.” I say, my voice rising slightly. “I can handle it.”
Mikhail leans in closer, his eyes narrowing in my direction.
“You’re in pain.” He points out, as if it’s not obvious enough. “Let us take care of you.”
I glance between both brothers, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You can’t be serious.”
I manage to whisper out, feeling Nikolai’s palm growing firmer against my stomach.
“We are.” He tells me, his tone calm. “We’ve already seen you at your most vulnerable, darling. This isn’t any different. Let us help you.”
The words catch in my throat.
I don’t know how to respond—how to make them understand thatthisis different.
This is too much…too personal…and tooeverything.
“I can do it myself.”
I insist, pushing my shoulders back as I stand up straighter.
They exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Mikhail is the one who speaks first, his voice unusually soft.
“We're not trying to embarrass you.” He says. “We just don't want you to feel like you have to do this alone. That’s all it is, beauty.”
I stare up at him, unable to figure out what I can possibly say to make this any better.
Before I even have the chance to say anything, Nikolai touches my waist once more.
“Come on.” He tells me. “Let us take care of you.”
And just like that, I know I've lost.
I want to protest, to demand that they leave me alone, but I know there’s no use.
One, they’ll ignore me.
And two, no matter how hard I try to speak, I can’t. The words are stuck in my throat, tangled up with my humiliation.
I’m frozen, unable to fight back as Mikhail invades my space, towering over me exactly how his brother is.
“You’re shaking.” Mikhail murmurs. “Relax, beauty. We’re here to help.”
Help.
The word feels foreign, wrong even. But they don’t give me any more chances to argue.
Mikhail reaches into the bag, pulling out the fresh pair of underwear. He doesn’t rush, or make any sudden movements either, but it still feels like my entire body is on fire as he passes the clothes over to Nikolai.
Nikolai takes a step away from me, putting some space between our bodies. One hand remains on my stomach, and the other goes to the waistband of my trousers. I flinch as I raise both of my hands, trying to stop him from doing what I know he needs to do, but he brushes them aside gently, his touch firm, but not rough.