Page 87 of Owned Bratva Bride

“Exactly. But some people would beg for spoilers just to stop the tension.”

“I’d do without,” he declared.

I continued snacking on my cookies, but the snugness of his side against mine was too blissful to ignore. It felt warm and comfortable, like home.

We watched in silence for several minutes. Eduard’s eyes remained on the screen while mine occasionally darted toward him, even though I couldn’t exactly see his face.

“Do we have to see that part?” he asked, chuckling at the image of the astronaut’s naked body.

“It’s for us to see how hard it is for him up there. He’s malnourished.”

“I’d rather not see it,” he insisted.

I turned my head to face him.

“Eduard, are you homophobic?”

“I’m not. I don’t know. I just don’t appreciate the sight of his body.”

“Youarehomophobic,” I joked, laughing.

“All I know is that I like pretty women,” he dropped, squeezing me into him, successfully making my heart skip.

We settled into another comfortable silence.

His fingers made soft patterns on my arm so smoothly that it felt subconscious.

“I used to talk about wanting to be an astronaut,” I revealed, not knowing why.

“You wanted to be an astronaut? What changed your mind?”

“I came to the understanding that I didn’t want to be an astronaut. What I just wanted then was to piss my parents off, especially my mom. I just used to say it as an act of rebellion, just to assure them that I would never bend for them,” I explained.

“I assume it wasn’t just about youthful rebellion,” he remarked.

I shook my head against his body.

“They had a certain expectation, actually, certain expectations from me as the only girl. It was a heavy weight, a burden,” I disclosed, chuckling. “My mom would nag me to no end if she found me playing video games with my brothers. She hated it whenever I threw things in anger or even yelled. She was all for what was proper, what was expected of a lady.”

I didn’t turn to him, but I knew he was listening.

“It didn’t help matters that I hated most girly things. The things she called proper were boring and even stupid. Growing up, I was a firecracker. When other kids kept quiet about something, I always spoke up. And that brought me suspensions and other punishments a lot. I changed schools many times, four different high schools. My mom would taunt me with words, compare me with other docile girls, and even seize my phone. But it didn’t change anything.”

Sighing, I went on.

“When some classmates physically assaulted me, I decided to learn how to fight. I eventually learnt MMA, even though my mom almost had a heart attack over it. I hated the feeling of being helpless. Even with my siblings, I never belonged. I was always in my corner, even though we all lived together. It was like I lived a life that was beyond their understanding. When I went with my college choice instead of the community college they’d chosen for me, they told me I was on my own.”

“They disowned you?” he inquired.

“I guess not. They just…left me.”

“Parents are a blessing and a curse. Seems there are no exceptions,” he expressed.

“Similar childhood?”

“Not really. But there were set expectations and, even though I met them, things always felt conditional with my father. My mother was the balance, but she died when I was still a teenager, so….”

He let his words hang. I didn’t push.