Chapter 37

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

"Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting."

― J.M. Barrie

Sofiya

I wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks with the back of my hand, trying to regain composure.

Gathering my things, I tossed my jumper into Dasha's duffel bag, ready to leave this place behind.

With a final look around, I scanned for anything missed, finding only Volk's black crumpled shirt on the bed.

Picking it up, I brought it to my face and inhaled deeply. His scent lingered - dark wood, light whiskey, a hint of vanilla. It stirred up a mix of emotions in me, reminding me of what we did just minutes ago before he left m e behind.

As I lay alone on the blanket, the crackling fireplace tickled my ears, I reached out to the empty space beside me, still radiating his lingering warmth from moments ago.

His departure inadvertently made it easier for me to leave, despite the temptation to turn back.

Doubt lingered, leaving me uncertain about what I would have said if he had stayed.

Come with me to New York?

I wished we didn't meet this way.

I want to stay with you.

I love y-

No.

I silenced that voice in my head.

Being in love with him seemed impossible, but deep down, I knew the truth.

Just because something feels impossible doesn't mean it's not real.

He embodied everything I despised: arrogance, selfishness, cockiness. He pushed me to the edge, turning me into someone unrecognizable. I had never lashed out physically or yelled so fiercely before.

Yet, there was something about him.

Despite his flaws, he had a way of drawing me in. He ignited a fire inside me, challenging everything I knew. He pushed me to my limits, awakening emotions I never knew existed.

I let out a tired grunt, my mind overwhelmed with a million thoughts weighing me down.

Quickly, I grabbed Volk's shirt and tossed it into my bag, zipping it shut with a heavy heart.

Turning away, I refused to look back at the walls holding too many painful memories .

Passing his closed door, a bittersweet realization settled in my chest.

Taking a deep breath, I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and headed downstairs.

At the entrance, Alexsei and Dasha stood waiting, bundled in coats. Dasha's furry scarf and sleek black gloves contrasted with her trembling hands, avoiding my gaze.

She handed me a new long black coat and stepped outside.

"Volk said you wanted to see Helena," Alexsei said, his tone detached. "Follow me."

Silent, I obediently followed him through the hallway, passing the warm light of the dining room chandeliers and the lingering scent of chamomile tea in the kitchen.

Outside, Alexsei led me to the garden, where I quickly pulled on the coat against the icy wind. The biting cold made me catch my breath.

Through the window of the small cabin, a flickering candle awaited.

"I'll wait outside. Make it quick."

With shaky hands, I opened the door, anxiety through the roof.

What I saw inside shattered my heart.

Helena sat on a small bed, her face bruised, and her nose swollen. Her once-tidy hair was now a mess, and her bloodshot eyes showed the pain and exhaustion she'd been through.

My heart sank seeing her like that, and a lump formed in my throat.

This was all my fault.

She looked up, her eyes meeting mine hesitantly.

I wanted to slap myself.

Are you okay ?

Really, Sofiya?

Obviously, she wasn't.

Who would be after being kidnapped, beaten, and probably emotionally abused?

She had always been strong, composed, and confident. Seeing her so low, so sad and exhausted, made the lump in my throat grow larger.

She didn't say a word but patted the side of the bed, inviting me to sit.

I closed the door, shutting out the cold, and sat beside her.

The soft glow of the candle on the bedside table lit up our faces.

She took my hands, kissed my knuckles, her tears wetting my skin.

"I'm leaving," I whispered, my breath shaky. "I'm going back home."

Home.

Funny how that word used to mean so much. It was a place of comfort, familiarity, and love. But now, it feels like a distant memory.

I didn't even know where home was anymore.

San Francisco, the city I once called home, is calling me back.

Yet, deep down, I know it won't be the same.

It'll be missing an essential piece—my mama.

She was the heart and soul of our home, making every corner warm and inviting even when we were at each other's throats.

Without her, going back to San Francisco feels like stepping into a hollow shell, a place that once held cherished memories but now lacks the life that made it special.

It's like a part of me will be missing too .

"Volk said he won't touch you. He said you have to stay in Russia, but he promised me he will take care of you," I continued as she remained silent. "I won't be staying in San Francisco for long; I just need to finish my exams, and then I'll move to New York."

The thought of exams almost made me laugh. With everything happening, it was hard to believe my degree still mattered.

But in a way, it gave me a sliver of hope and purpose.

Despite the chaos, having something to strive for kept me grounded. It reminded me that life had more to offer than just the sadness surrounding me.

She gently brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my cheek. "I heard that Volk is a man of his word. So, don't worry about me," she reassured me, her voice quivering with sadness. "And Sofiya," she continued, her brows furrowing, "Please know that I am sorry. I never wanted any of this to happen. I was in love with Victoria. I loved her with every fiber of my being, and unfortunately, love can drive you to do crazy things. I regret almost every decision I've made since I met her. I regret each one of them, except raising you. You were a gift from God."

My eyes widened.

She was in love with her?

"Victoria was everything to me," she started, her voice heavy with sorrow. "She was my sister, my friend, my lover, and my enemy all in one. She wasn't a good person. She could be warm one minute and ice cold the next. You never knew where you stood with her. It was like walking on eggshells. But despite it all, I just wanted to make her happy."

Her words hit me hard.

I sighed trying to calm my racing heart .

"When we vowed to get pregnant by the same man, I jumped in because I thought it'd bring us closer," she sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. "I loved her too much."

"When she died, it broke me in ways I still can't fix," she admitted, her hand caressing my cheek. "But when I look at you, something shifts. The pain gets a bit easier to bear, and I feel like everything I went through was worth it."

When we're young, we only see our parents as caregivers, not as people with their own dreams, hopes, and struggles from before we were even around.

Realizing this completely changed how I saw Helena—she wasn't just my mom, but someone who had a whole life before me.

It turned everything upside down.

"I'm sorry I kept everything a secret. I'm sorry I made you think your papa was dead, faking his funeral. But I did it to protect you from him," she said. "Vlad was your papa, and you loved him so much. But I saw something dark growing in him, something dangerous. I…" Her voice broke, and she paused, tears spilling from her eyes. "I wanted to protect you from the same pain I went through."

My mama's confession shook me to the core, shattering my perception of our lives.

It was difficult to grasp that she endured such pain all alone.

How many women like Dasha and Helena have carried such unbearable burdens?

The thought of countless women and girls silently enduring such agony is heartbreaking, their stories untold and suffering unseen.

I yearned to bring comfort and peace to my mama, to ease her pain and regrets .

Yet, alongside these feelings, I couldn't shake the sense of betrayal and confusion within me.

I couldn't believe that she faked my papa's death, shattering my young girl's heart.

"I wish things were different. But they're not," I sighed. "You're still my mama, no matter what. I think we just need some distance for me to rebuild my trust in you."

She nodded, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I understand. I have to return to my life here in Russia, too. Try to make amends."

I nodded, my throat tightening. "I don't know where to go from here. Everything feels so uncertain."

Helena smiled and grabbed my hand. "Victoria and Vlad may be your biological parents, but you're nothing like them. You're stronger than you realize, Sofiya. You've faced unimaginable challenges and come out the other side. Now, it's time to find your own path, to reclaim your life."

"But how?"

Her grip tightened around my hand, her voice filled with conviction. "You start by embracing the choices before you. You have the opportunity to shape your destiny. Trust your heart, Sofiya, and listen to the voice within. It will guide you."

A storm brewed inside me.

It hit me—I had a choice.

I could stay stuck in my past, or I could rise up and start anew.

I nodded, my heart heavy. "Please take care of yourself, okay?"

Her voice trembled as she choked out, "You'll come visit me?"

I paused, a lump forming in my throat, making it hard to find my voice .

"I promise," I managed to whisper. "I will come visit you. When the time is right, when we both feel ready."

A faint smile appeared on her lips as she pulled me into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around me with urgency. I held her just as tightly, desperate to capture every detail of her.

"I'm going to miss you, Mama," I whispered against her hair.

She sniffled. "Ya tebya lyublyu, my sweet Sofiya."

I love you too, Mama.

I reluctantly loosened my grip, feeling a bittersweet ache in my heart as I acknowledged that it was time to part ways.

With a heavy heart, I rose to my feet, attempting to conceal the pain coursing through my veins.

Walking away behind Alexsei to the car, her words echoed in my mind.

Each step I took seemed to align with the rhythm of her voice, replaying her confession over and over again.

You'll come visit me?

I promise.

Our relationship had grown strained, trust fractured.

To heal, we needed space to grow independently, to rediscover ourselves and rebuild the foundation of trust that once bound us together.

Seated in the car, I whispered one last time, almost to myself, "Please, take care of yourself, Mama."

My voice hung in the air as I watched the engine come to life.

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Volk in his bedroom, gazing down at me. One hand rested on the window, while the other held a glass, likely filled with vodka.

His intense stare felt searing, as if it could pierce through my skin, and a chill seemed to frost the windows .

Instinctively, I reached out and placed my hand on the car window, mirroring his gesture.

Goodbye, Mikha?l.

Despite everything that transpired, deep down, I knew I would miss him.

There were so many unspoken words between us, like a book with blank pages waiting to be filled.

Yet now, the last chapter had closed, and there was no turning back.

As the car began to move, the house gradually faded from view, leaving behind everything familiar and dear to me, including the two people my heart didn't want to let go.