27. Katya

I try not to think about it, but I felt every second, every minute, every hour, taking us down to that time when we would never be together like this again. It was days, not weeks, not months, not years, not decades, not forever.Seconds, minutes, and hours were all I had.

Somehow, I was able to live in the present and enjoy his company just being together, no matter what we were doing.

Talking, making food, watching TV or a movie— or not doing anything at all.

And of course, we fucked like rabbits any and every chance we had. It was wonderful, and sad, and fun, and joyful. But I couldn't help but notice he was getting stronger every day. No longer my little kiska, weak as a kitten, safe in my bed. And that was an ending too.

Once he was strong then he’d be back to being the old Yuri. He would put on that mask and this Yuri would be gone.

Yuri wanted to destroy Petya—had to destroy him because only one of them could take over my father’s Bratva. But the cost of that was this Yuri, my Yuri would go away again, hiding behind that mask of the Bratva don. He would never be this vulnerable again. He would never make loving him this easy for me again.

I tried not to dwell on how it could be between us. I knew how much it would break my heart when he turned his back on this Yuri, turned his back on me, us. Then, perhaps, every now and then he would drop his guard for a moment—an hour, a day, a night—only to put his mask back on again when it was over.

I couldn’t live like that could I? Waiting to be loved for an hour, a day, a night then have it shut off like a light switch, leaving me in the dark, bereft? I could look forward to an hour or a day every month? Every 6 months? Once a year? Less? On our anniversary? As a Christmas or birthday present? It was too terrible and sad to contemplate. I couldn’t live like that. Like someone crossing a desert, hoping to stumble upon an oasis before I die—never knowing if or when it would come. And the last one was the very last one.

Ever.

I couldn’t survive on that. And nothing would change with a baby. It would be worse if worse was even possible.

I tried to stay present and not contemplate this dark, cold future. The talking was the best part—and what I was going to miss the most. I'd never heard him talk so freely before; all that cold-heartedness and innate reticence seemed gone from him as we talked. He shared opinions about everything, many were silly or terrible—but at least he talked openly about them. He wasn’t hiding anything from me for once.

Desire felt like a rope tying us together, connecting us like kids using tin cans over a taut string—the vibrations of desire and togetherness always present between us. I tried to store everything up: every look, laugh, and touch in a little treasure chest—a box I could open whenever I needed.

He wanted me all the time, it was mutual. By the third day, he’d taken me roughly; there was something in that intensity that made me think maybe this was our last time together, the penultimate moment before ‘the before’ and ‘the after.’

I couldn't help myself; it was like rubbing salt in the wound but I had to try to fight for this: "Don't you see how it can still be like this? There's no reason it can't."

"No."

“It’s silly that we're counting down until—”

“No! And you know what? Leave it alone. It is what it is.”

“How can I leave it? I love you! How can I let this go without a fight?”

“It makes you too big of a weakness for me to have, for my enemies, our enemies to exploit. To hurt you to hurt me.”

“I know the risks, but we can do something about them! Unless it's just me here—the one out on a limb alone… You don’t care about me.”

“You know that's not true.” He got up and walked around the house, leaving me there alone and destitute without him.

I did know but sometimes you need to hear it said aloud, too. I was finished, I knew it. I had let go completely of all my resistance to loving him. And I knew that even if he didn’t love me back, that wouldn’t matter. I had surrendered. I had waived my white flag and knew I loved him, terribly, sadly, totally, and unguardedly. And now I had to live with those feelings—with him or without him—for better or worse.

I didn’t know if this relationship could continue unchanged.

I began doubting whether he loved me genuinely or saw only my utility within the bratva's plans.

While sitting beside him in bed, he didn't look at me but spoke lowly and slowly, “This isn't easy for me.”

“I didn’t mean to ruin this.”

He smiled sadly. “You know it can't be like this forever—if anything happened to you... It would tear me apart—that's why we can't stay like this—you understand?”

“But—”

He kept talking over me, “I need to know you're safe,”he continued softly. “I can't be who I need to be without knowing you're okay—you understand? If I'm with you like this...it's just not sustainable. You're right—I am a coward… If I lose you… I'm done... But if I know you're safe then… then maybe I can put one foot in front of the other and keep going and do all the things I need to do. But without you, with you at risk or in danger … I couldn’t possibly do any of those things. This isn’t easy for me either but the alternative is impossible.”