Chapter 24 - Yefim

We've been home for a few days now, and Tia has been keeping herself at a distance from me. It started while we were still at the villa with my family. The last day she seemed to be happy was on the yacht. After that, things started to change, and at first, I thought I was imagining it—but now, it's too obvious to deny.

I have been trying to move closer to her, and nothing seems to be working. I feel like I'm losing her; as each moment passes, she is slipping further and further away from me.

She spends her free time in the library, reading, not talking much, giving short answers when I try to talk to her. Sometimes I sit with her, but she turns her body slightly away from mine and curls her legs up beneath her, as though she is trying to protect herself from me.

I don't understand what changed. It all seemed to be going so well—then, suddenly, out of the blue, this happened.

If I move closer to her, she literally takes a step back. She turns her head away from me if I lean down to kiss her.

Each time she does this, it seems to break a piece of my heart. My body is aching to hold her, to feel her tenderness again. But it seems that those days are over now.

I'm beginning to panic, in all honesty.

Desperation has sunk into my bones like a nagging sickness, eating away at me.

Any day now— any day she is going to tell me she is ready for a divorce.

Any day now, she is going to step out of our agreement, and all I want in this world is to change her mind. But it seems that this fantasy I've been living in is coming to an end.

***

My feet feel heavy on the stairs as I carry coffee up to the library. It's Saturday, neither of us has to work today, and I have planned something for us. It's an attempt to pull her back towards me. An attempt to show her how much she means to me, because I can't just sit back and let this happen.

I step into the library. The early morning sunshine is filtering through the stained glass window, splashing colors across Tia's face.

She looks up at me, a distance in her eyes, a coldness in her body language.

"I made you some coffee. I thought when you were done, you could come out somewhere with me."

"Oh. I was just going to read today," she says without emotion in her voice.

"Please, come out with me." I'm not the type of man to beg, but for her—for her, I will do anything.

She sighs and bites her bottom lip.

"Alright. I guess I can come out for a bit," she finally agrees, and I hold back a sigh of relief. I put the coffee down on the table next to her chair.

All I need to do is show her how special she is to me, and then she won't want to leave anymore.

"I'll be ready downstairs in about half an hour." I smile, feeling nervous and tense, then walk out of the library, telling myself everything will be okay as my fists clench and unclench. When last did someone make me this nervous? I can't seem to recall.

She has this effect on me that no one else does.

***

Half an hour later, Tia walks down the stairs wearing tight-fitting jeans that accentuate her gorgeous full curves, and a soft white cotton blouse that shows off her plump breasts.

Her hair is pulled up into a cute and messy bun on top of her head and her lips are tinted pink, bringing out the rose color in her cheeks. She smiles at me as she walks down the stairs towards me.

My eyes graze over her, and I think to myself, I can't let her go. Whatever I do today, I have to spoil her rotten so that she never wants to leave.

"We're going shopping," I say, opening the car door for her.

"Oh. Was there something you needed?"

"No, I just thought we could browse together and have fun spending a bit of money?"

She smiles, but it doesn't seem to reach her eyes. The drive to the mall is quiet. I hope this works. I hope she sees what she means to me when I try to give her everything.

At the shopping mall, as we walk around, I try to take her hand, and for a few minutes, she lets me, but then finds an excuse to let go—searching through her handbag for lip balm or checking her phone, then not taking my hand again afterwards. I notice everything. Every move, every time she steps away, every time she won't make eye contact with me.

Every shop we go into, if she looks at something and seems to like it, I buy it for her. Clothing, shoes, jewelry, handbags. Everything . I want her to feel like a queen, spoiled and taken care of. But the more we shop, the sourer her expression becomes, and my heart is weighing heavier and heavier in my chest.

Perhaps it's too late. Perhaps it was never meant to be, and she is just ready to leave. Maybe no matter what I do, she won't change her mind.

I feel the worry and stress sitting in the pit of my stomach.

"Yefim, do you think we can just sit for a bit at a restaurant or something?" Tia asks after a few hours of shopping and a silence growing between us.

"Of course, what do you feel like?"

"Maybe some seafood?"

I lead her to one of the nearby seafood restaurants and we sit in heavier silence, trying not to look at each other, both knowing the inevitable but obviously feeling too awkward to talk about it. Maybe she feels bad asking for the divorce? Perhaps she noticed that I started feeling something for her and she is struggling to confess she wants to leave because she knows it would hurt me.

I don't want her to stay with me out of pity.

I'm not that man.

***

Lunch is actually horrible. Not the food. The food is great. But the tension in the air between us only seems to get worse after our day of shopping.

I drive us home with a heavy silence sitting between us.

I have to accept it—she doesn't feel the same way I feel, and she clearly never will. Perhaps right from the beginning she was too good for me, her innocence never fitting into my world like I imagined it could.

At home, Tia goes straight to the library again. Her bags of shopping and new things are left in the bedroom, untouched, uninteresting to her.

I can't take this. I'm driving myself crazy with these stupid looping thoughts.

If it's over between us then it needs to be now. It can't carry on like this because I'll end up going insane. If she wants to leave, she has to go today.

I'll help her with whatever she needs, I'll get her a place, but I can't be this close to her knowing she doesn't want what I want.

But the thought of her moving out crushes me.

No. I won't let her.

I'm pacing up and down the hallway outside the library.

I want to talk to her, I want to tell her what's going on inside my head, but I think it will only make things worse for both of us when the time comes to walk away.

"Yefim?" Tia calls from inside the library room.

I pause, mid-step. "Yeah?"

"Why are you pacing? You've walked past the door about twenty times."

I close my eyes for a moment, then walk towards the open doorway. Standing in the doorway, I stare at her. Her book is resting on her lap, her finger holding her place on the page she was reading. She's leaning slightly forward in the oversized armchair, tilting her head towards me with curiosity.

"What's going on?" she asks when I don't say anything. Her eyes are narrowed, her brows knotted.

I want her to understand what she does to my heart.

I sigh and step into the library, walking slowly towards her, my thoughts running wild.

Standing over her, I look down into her beautiful eyes. They pull me in every time.

"Tia…"

I can't find the words. I don't know what to say. It's going to make everything worse. You are going to push her all the way away from you. I run my hand through my hair, clenching my jaw in frustration.

"Yefim, just talk to me. You're acting weird." She puts the book down on the table.

"I took you out today—"

"Yes?"

"I took you out to try and show you what I can give you. I wanted to give you a reason not to leave. I don't want—what I do want—" I stammer and trip over my own words. "Fuck." I whisper in frustration.

Her eyes are growing wider as they stare at me. She's sitting up straighter. I have her full attention.

"What do you want, Yefim?" she asks, her voice low, almost a whisper—is that hope I see in her eyes?

"I want you," I blurt out. "I don't want a divorce. I don't want our marriage to end. I wanted to spoil you enough that you might stay. I thought if I just gave you everything you ever wanted—you wouldn't leave."

I pull the other armchair towards her, taking a seat opposite her with my elbows resting on my knees as I lean towards her, waiting, tense, stressed to see how she will react to my confession.

She bites her lip, shaking her head.

"I didn't want any of the stuff you bought for me today. It's all just— things . I don't want things. I want you. It's all I want."

My jaw is clenched so tightly it's hurting me.

Wait .

What did she just say?

"You want—?" My chest is tight, and my heart is beating so heavily its pounding loudly in my ears.

"I want you, Yefim. Not the things you buy me, not the money you have. I just want you."

"You want me?" I say in shock. "Then why have you been acting so weird the last few days, ever since we got home?"

She smiles, tight and sad. "Because I was getting ready to have my heart broken when you told me our deal was fulfilled and you were ready to get a divorce."

I laugh.

I laugh because I am so relieved.

I laugh because my heart is springing wildly around in my chest.

I laugh because I can't believe how badly we misunderstood each other when all we needed to do was talk.

I laugh because she wants the same thing I want.

She starts laughing too, and I lean forward and pull her off her chair and into my lap.

"You don't want a divorce?" I ask, just to make sure I'm not misunderstanding anything.

"I don't want a divorce. I want to be together for real and see where it goes." She smiles as I wrap my hand around her jaw and pull her towards me, pressing my lips against hers.

We kiss, but we are both smiling, so it makes it difficult. She starts laughing again. "What do you want?" she asks.

"I want to be together for real—and see where it goes," I repeat her words back to her.

"Really?" she says, her eyes wide with surprise as the reality of our situation sinks in. Then she's laughing again. She turns her body so that she's facing me, her legs on either side of mine and she kisses me again.

The smile fades from her face, as it does mine, the intensity of that kiss tells me that she means what she says—she is as relieved as I am to hear that neither of us wants to end this.

Her lips press against mine, her mouth moving as I taste her. I run my hands down her back and feel the warmth of her body.

When I taste the salt of her tears, I hold her face in my hands and pull her back so that I can look into her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" I whisper.

"I don't know—I just—I thought—I thought it was all over."

"But it's actually only just beginning." I pull her back against my mouth and kiss her again.

It's only just the beginning.

Of everything.

And now it's real.