Page 71 of Unbroken

I flash him a grin. “And you love it.”

“Listen,” he says, exhaling hard. “You can sleep in the guest room. Or I will. Whatever you want. This isn’t about sex, Ruthie.”

Did he just say that out loud? He did, right there in the open, for anyone to hear. Formeto hear.

My cheeks flame. All it takes is that one sentence and my body betrays me.

I remember what it felt like being in his bed. I want it again—now, later, always.

“Shame,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “That’s a damn shame.”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me like he wants to say everything and nothing at once.

“Alright,” I say, voice breaking just a little. Why is this whole exchange so emotionally charged? What the hell?

“I need to go. Please, Vadka. Let me go.”

He breathes out like he’s been holding it in for too long. But he lets me go. Finally. Reluctantly.

And I love that. He doesn’t want me to go.

I find myself driving—aimless for a while until instinct takes the wheel. It leads me to the old church, but that’s not where I’m going either.

I veer off the road and follow the gravel path to the ancient cemetery that clings to the edge of the forest. It’s old, weather-worn. Familiar. My heart aches.

Buried here are pieces of the past. The Kopolov family’s parents. My mother’s parents. A friend from school who died too young, my favorite teacher. The old woman who sat outside the bakery feeding bread crumbs to the birds.

Mariah.

But I’m not thinking about her yet as I catalog everyone else.

The sky is heavy with dark clouds. I look over my shoulder more than once, convinced someone’s following me. I’m not important enough for a guard this close, right? I mean, they’ll go to my work, but…

Vadka might have a few things to say about that, and I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

I kill the engine and stare at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My hair’s a mess, there are dark shadows under my eyes, and I need a good brow job. But somehow, I look… radiant. Flushed. Glowing like a woman in love.

I drop my head back against the seat, overwhelmed.

Iam.

I am a woman in love, whether I want to be or not.

Maybe I’ve always loved him. I think I have. It was easier when it was quiet love—muted, safe. Platonic. But now it’s changed. It's grown teeth.

And I don’t know how to make sense of it.

I’d give anything to talk to Mariah. But even if Vadka were another man and Mariah were right here in front of me, I don’t know if I could confess this.

But he isn’t another man, and she isn’t here.

I’m in love with your husband.

“Oh, Mariah,” I whisper to the sky. With a sigh, I open the door and step into the wind.

I walk the worn path toward her grave. I know she’s not here—not really. Just her body and bones, a decaying shell that once held life. But maybe… maybe there’s something else. A presence. A spirit. A whisper of what she was.

I’m not religious. I can’t bring myself to believe in heaven. But the idea that we go from bright, vivid people to nothing… to worm food… it feels wrong. There has to be something more.