Chapter 61

Chapter

Sixty-One

"After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die."

― E.B. White

Caia

I winced at the sharp, acrid smell of smoke, every breath burning through my lungs. Forcing my eyes open, I was met with nothing but pitch-black darkness, the thick smoke curling around me, swallowing everything in sight.

The heat was unbearable. I tried to rub my eyes out of instinct, only to find my movements painfully restricted. That's when it hit me—my arms were tied behind my back, the ropes biting into my skin with every shift.

Where am I?

I struggled to stand, my feet scraping against the rough ground. Barefoot, the tattered remains of my long dress barely clung to me, a large tear exposing my right leg. Tiny cuts covered my skin, some crusted with dried blood.

The smoke thickened, the darkness pressing in tighter.

Standing there, fighting for air, I tried to piece together what happened. My mind was foggy, and the raw pain in my throat made it nearly impossible to think. The smoke stung my eyes, forcing tears to spill down my face, mixing with the sweat and dirt clinging to my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing through the sharp sting.

Flashes of memory flickered in my head: the grandeur of the exhibition, Alexsei's lips against mine, the elegant sculptures, Sofiya's carefree laughter. I could still taste the champagne that had suddenly turned sour. A man's cold, detached voice sliced through the blur. Each memory felt disjointed, fragments of a puzzle I couldn't quite fit together.

The last clear moment I had was washing my hands in the ladies' room. Then, something pressed against my lips out of nowhere, and everything went dark.

Oh God, someone must've drugged me.

I groaned, yanking harder against the ropes cutting into my wrists. The more I struggled, the tighter they dug in, scraping my skin raw and leaving my wrists throbbing.

A frustrated cry slipped out as the pain shot through me.

The thick stench of smoke only got worse, and then it hit me: the place was on fire. If I didn't get out soon, the whole building would come crashing down on me.

Squinting, I forced my eyes to adjust to the darkness, the smoke choking me with every breath. My lungs felt like they were being crushed. Through the haze, a faint red light flickered a few meters away—barely visible, but it was something.

I staggered toward it, feet slipping on debris and uneven ground. Every step felt like a fight just to stay upright.

As I got closer, the red light finally sharpened into something familiar. It was an exit sign—dim, barely there, but unmistakable.

I pushed forward, dragging myself the rest of the way until I reached the door.

Desperation clawed at me as I slammed my shoulder into the door, but the damn thing didn't even budge. No matter how many times I threw myself at it, it stayed stubbornly locked. A frustrated scream ripped from my throat, but it was swallowed up by the thick, suffocating smoke. Every breath was a battle, the air turning hotter and more poisonous by the second.

Giving it one last shot, I staggered back, braced myself, and charged. My body crashed against the solid metal with everything I had.

Pain exploded through me as my shoulder smashed into the door, sending a shockwave straight down my arm. I hit the ground hard, clutching my shoulder. The pain was blinding, spreading like fire—something had to be broken.

My cries turned into pitiful choking sounds as I tried to get enough air, the stench of burning filling my lungs.

The exit was right there, close enough to touch, but it might as well have been a mile away.

I was trapped.

Too wiped out to keep going, barely able to breathe, I collapsed onto my side. My vision blurred, and the agony in my shoulder dulled to a distant throb as my body finally gave in.

I shut my eyes and let the darkness swallow me whole.

A soft touch brushed my cheek, barely there, pulling me out of unconsciousness. My eyelids fluttered open, squinting against the harsh, sterile lights overhead. Everything was a blur at first, the edges of the room fuzzy as I tried to make sense of where I was. The steady beep of machines and the faint scent of antiseptic crept in, anchoring me in reality.

I was laid up in a hospital bed, needles and tubes hooked into my arms. The thin hospital gown clung awkwardly to my skin, a light blanket pulled up to my waist. My eyes wandered around the room, catching on the vibrant bouquets scattered on tables, their bright colors a stark contrast to the plain white walls.

The dull throb in my arm slipped into the background as a familiar voice, soft and small, broke through the fog.

"Mama, you're awake, finally!"

My heart stopped.

I turned my head slowly, almost afraid of what I might see.

Standing there, with a bright smile and missing two front teeth, was a little boy—no older than three. He wore a white linen two-piece outfit, his blond hair glowing in the soft light, and his blue eyes sparkling with innocence.

"I wanted to draw on your cast while you were sleeping, Mamma, but the big guy said no," he pouted, crossing his tiny arms in frustration.

No.

It couldn't be.

"L-Lukyan?" My voice trembled, barely more than a whisper.

He nodded eagerly, his smile widening as he climbed onto the edge of the bed.

A sob burst from me, raw and uncontrollable.

This was impossible, yet here he was—my son, my sweet baby Lukyan.

I reached out with my free arm, pulling him close, desperate to feel him, to hold him.

"I've missed you, Mama," he whispered, his small hands clutching mine tightly.

I cradled his head, kissing him over and over, unable to stop. "Oh, my baby," I choked out. "My poor baby, I've missed you so much, Lukyan. So, so much."

My heart felt like it was shattering and healing all at once.

It was too much, and yet not enough.

I held him tighter, my tears soaking his hair, as the world around us seemed to fade away.

Lukyan nestled into my embrace, his small body warm and familiar against mine. I never wanted to let him go. But then, he pulled back slightly, his blue eyes filled with a gentle sadness.

"Mama, I can't stay long," he said softly, his voice carrying a wisdom far beyond his years. "I have to go back to play."

My heart clenched painfully at his words. "No, no, no! Please, baby, don't go. Stay with me," I whispered, my voice cracking.

He gave me a tender smile and pointed upward, his little finger tracing the ceiling. "But I see you from up here, Mama. I watch you every day."

"From up there?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He nodded. "Yeah, and soon we'll be together again. But for now, I have to go back."

I shook my head. "I don't want you to go, Lukyan. I need you here with me."

He reached out, brushing a tear from my cheek with his tiny hand. "I know, Mama. But you have to stay with Papa. He needs you. And no matter what, I'm always with you, even when you can't see me."

My chest tightened as I tried to memorize every detail of his face, every moment of this impossible encounter. "I love you so much, Lukyan," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"I love you too, Mama," he replied, his voice soft and full of love. "But it's time for me to go." He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then slowly slipped out of my embrace. As he stepped back, his form began to blur, fading into the soft light.

"No, please…" I reached out, but he was already disappearing.

As Lukyan's form began to fade, his small frame growing dimmer in the soft light, he looked back at me one last time. His blue eyes, still so full of love, held a profound sadness.

"Tell Papa I love him too," he said softly, his voice trembling. "He misses me just as much as I miss him. He needs to know."

"I will, baby," I managed to whisper.

With one final, fleeting smile, Lukyan disappeared into the light, leaving me alone in the shadowy room. The emptiness he left behind hit me so hard that all I could do was shut my eyes and let the darkness take over once more.