Page 28

I sat on the hospital bed, my face cupped in my palms. My shoulders shook as quiet sobs tore through me.

The acrid tang of smoke wafted from my hair and clothes, mingling with the subtle scent of antiseptic. Soot stains smeared my pale skin, a pungent reminder of the inferno that had nearly claimed my life.

The fact that both the baby and I were unharmed despite the amount of smoke I inhaled was a miracle. The doctor said that I was fine and that the baby was in perfect condition—that was good news.

But as much as I was grateful to have narrowly escaped that fire, I couldn't stop blaming myself that Bryce didn't. He died in that explosion, and it was all my fault.

Tears streamed down my soot-smudged face, mingling with the ashes of my despair. I sniffled, a hand on my heaving chest as if to prevent my heart from jumping out.

Maybe I was too harsh on Bryce the last time he took me against my will. I'd said some mean and awful things to him, and maybe if I'd handled the situation better that day, he wouldn't have been depressed enough to have harbored suicidal thoughts.

I never thought that he had it in him to want to take his own life for any reason at all. Yes, he wasn't one to bluff. Yes, he was obsessed with me. But I didn't think I mattered so much to him that he actually thought he wouldn't be able to live without me in his life.

He killed himself because of me—because I failed to handle a situation maturely. I let my emotions get the better of me, and in that moment of anger, I was so blinded by my rage that I couldn't see the bigger picture. I was only thinking about that moment and how furious I was that I didn't stop to think about how my words could and would eventually affect him.

I was so mad and just wanted to get rid of him forever. Well, the joke was on me. I'd finally gotten what I wanted. I’d gotten rid of him forever.

My heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, and my body shook violently, my sobs convulsing with intensity.

Bryce's favorite song used to be Sia's “House on Fire.” How ironic that that was how he’d died…burning in a house on fire.

This is so messed up.

I lowered my head, chin resting on my chest as each sob racked my fragile body. It was as if grief itself was suffocating me.

“I'm so sorry, Bryce. I’m so sorry,” I whispered, weeping as my trembling fingers clutched the sheets.

My heart was heavy with guilt and sadness, this burden of his death threatening to drown me in sorrow.

A part of me knew, deep down, that it wasn't entirely my fault, but beating myself up felt so right. It was as if this was the only way I could punish myself for acting so irrationally the other day. I hadn’t thought, and that was the problem because if I had, I would’ve realized how powerful words could be.

If I hadn't acted on impulse all in a bid to send a message that I didn't want him around me anymore, things would've been different. Maybe he would still be alive today.

I’d learned the hard way to always be mindful of the words I said to people. I learned the power of speech and how it could either make or break someone. Never again would I be careless with my words. Never again would I make anyone feel so terrible about themselves.

There would always be other ways to express my feelings without hurting the other person's. Life was too short and unpredictable; one minute, we were here, and the next, we were gone.

I learned today to cherish every moment with everyone around me because I realized only one thing was certain in the end…death.

Behind me, the door creaked open, and the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with subtle hints of smoke and dirt wafted through the room.

I hopped off the bed and swiveled to face him as he approached me with a faint smile on his lips.

Alexei's white undershirt was stained with soot and dirt, and his tie sagged loosely off his neck. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, revealing his strong, masculine arms—the same arms that had carried me as he ran through the flames like a Marvel superhero.

Alexei Tarasov was my own superhero. I wouldn't be alive right now if it wasn't for him. He’d shown up in the nick of time to save the day, and I would forever be thankful for that. I wouldn't be here if he'd waited a minute longer before coming to get me.

Fresh tears stung my eyes, and soon, they cascaded my cheeks as he halted in front of me. I jerked my head, meeting his gaze with a heart filled with love and gratitude.

His hand caressed my face, his thumb gently brushing against my brow as I melted into his touch. Without a moment of hesitation, I slipped into his warm embrace, tightly hugging him, my chest pressing against his torso. I rested my head on his broad chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

His arms wrapped around me, enveloping my form like a warm blanket. I could stay in his hold all day, considering the amount of peace and comfort I found in his embrace.

Alexei hadn't asked who the man in the burning building was, nor had he asked what I was doing there. But he deserved to know the truth; he shouldn't have to ask before I'd tell him.

I slipped out of his arms and held his gaze, my heart racing with anticipation. “There's something you should know.”

His expression softened, giving out a welcoming aura, like he was open to listening to me. I was afraid of being judged, but with the atmosphere he'd created, I'd just speak the truth and hope for the best.

“The man in the fire was my ex-boyfriend…Bryce,” I said, watching his face for even the slightest change in his mood.

I wouldn't blame him if he got mad. The situation didn't look good from where he was standing. As a married woman, why would I go to see my ex at his place, all by myself?

Thinking about it this way, I now realized how messed up the whole thing was. I might be in deep trouble after telling him everything, but I'd rather risk it than be quiet or lie about it.

I tried to catch at least a glimpse of anger or something like that in his eyes or on his face, but I caught nothing. His expression remained soft, his willingness to listen unwavering.

“The other day, when I went out and returned late, it was because he kidnapped me,” I added, and at this point, I watched him squint ever so slightly, but he said nothing.

I continued, “That night, when I woke up at his place, we had an argument because I wouldn't leave you for him….” My voice broke, tear glands charging up and stinging my eyes. “I…I said some mean words to him. In my anger, I lost it, and I was so harsh on him because I didn't want to see him again.”

He reached out to wipe my tears with his thumb, his skin delicately caressing mine.

“I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner, and I'm sorry that I went to see him again today,” I said, my breaking voice dripping with sincerity. “But I only went there because he sent me a text, saying he was about to kill himself.” Without breaking eye contact, I shook my head, adding, “I couldn't let him do that because of me. I thought that I could talk him out of it; I'm sorry that I put my life and the baby's life at risk.” I burst out crying, my shoulders trembling.

“Hey,” he called softly, trying to catch my eyes as I avoided his gaze. Finally, he did, his hand soothingly massaging the back of my neck. “I understand.” His eyes bore into mine, his expression still soft.

My brows arched at the sincerity of his words, my breath hitching in my throat. “You do?” I whispered, stuttering, and my heart filled with gladness.

His lips curled into a sly smile while he nodded. “Yes, I do.” He pulled me closer to himself. “You have a kind heart, Lorena, and I get the reason why you wanted to help. You couldn't have someone's death on your conscience; that's why you wanted to help.”

Okay, who are you, and what have you done to the man I married? I thought to myself, my eyes widening at his level of understanding. He wasn't supposed to let me off so easily. Was this some kind of trap?

I spent the next few minutes explaining to my husband the events that had led to the fire, all while holding his gaze. I studied his countenance in an attempt to understand whether or not this aura of understanding was genuine. And so far, I couldn’t smell anything fishy.

Alexei didn't have any tricks up his sleeves. This was no trap at all; it was just a man listening to and understanding his wife.

His hand wrapped around my waist, the back of his fingers caressing my cheek. “His death is not on you, Lorena.” His voice was smooth and soothing to my aching heart.

“But it feels like it is,” I said quietly, eyes dropping to the floor as self-condemnation crept into my tone.

He raised my chin and held my gaze. “In his selfishness and obsession, he wanted you to die with him.” Alexei's jaw clenched, a glint of anger flashing in his eyes. “The bastard got what he deserved.”

Hearing him explain it to me this way had a positive effect on me. Some of the weight of Bryce's death lifted from my shoulders as I realized my husband was right. Bryce was willing to kill me and my unborn baby so no one else would be with me. That was selfish and cruel, and I shouldn't blame myself.

A wave of gratitude washed over me as I stared lovingly into Alexei's eyes, only one question ringing in my head. A part of me knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it.

“Can I ask you something?” I questioned, looking deeply into his eyes.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Why did you save me?” I asked, my gaze unwavering. “Was it because you wanted to or because I'm carrying your baby?”

He pulled me closer, my hip against his. Our eyes were locked on each other's. “After I got notified of your location, I couldn't head home without making sure that you were okay.”

My eyes blinked, and my breath ceased as I watched him begin what seemed like a heartfelt confession.

“Lorena, for some reason, I just felt like you needed me. I couldn't shake the feeling that you were in trouble,” he said, his tone laced with emotion.

This was the first time he was speaking so intimately with me, and it warmed my heart, wrapping my soul with joy. It was like I was looking at a whole new person—a different and more affectionate version of the ruthless man I’d married.

Alexei continued, “And when I saw that house on fire and realized it was your location, I nearly lost my mind.” His fingers combed through my hair, his eyes never leaving mine. “I'd never been so afraid in my life, Lorena. I thought I'd lost you, and that feeling was awful.”

A lone tear streamed down my cheek, his sincere words stirring up my affection, toiling with my emotions.

“At first, I wasn't sure why I felt the way I did,” he said, wiping away that lone tear. “But now I do.” He paused and stared at me, his smile spreading across his. “It's because I love you, Lorena,” he confessed, eyes sparkling with mirth.

My heart skipped at his declaration, a wave of excitement washing over me, igniting every flame of emotion in me. I threw my hands around his neck, my lips curling into a smile as I pushed closer, my body pressing against his. “And I love you, Alexei Tarasov,” I confessed.

He leaned forward and gently claimed my lips, his tongue sliding into my mouth. Goosebumps crawled my skin, my senses awakening at his touch. We'd kissed before, more times than I could count, but this one was different. I could feel the spark between us, and it was, in all honesty, the best kiss we'd shared yet.