Melissa
"I can forgive you."
I knew my husband was crazy.
Honestly. I am the same but to take the children without me? And the fact that they came with him. God. I feel like I'm dying again.
"Natasha, I know you want to know everything, but I need to talk to Roman."
"No, I don't agree to wait." She frowned.
"Please." I begged too pitifully. "I've never lied to you. And I know you think I hid these kids, but I didn't. I'll explain everything, but just wait."
"You know...that day I thought you were going to die." Tears appeared in the eyes of the strong Russian woman who had been in the mafia world for too long. "When you fell on my knees, I thought you were going to die. But it felt like I was losing my daughter."
"Natasha..." A strange lump of feeling got stuck in my throat.
"No, listen." She swallowed and squeezed my hand tighter. "I love you. And when you left, my world collapsed. And now that I can feel my daughter next to me again, I will do anything to make you happy. That's why I trust you." She slowly stood up from her chair and just then the door opened.
A soft light filled the room where I lay on the bed. My face was drawn, but my eyes shone with tenderness as I looked at the three children at the threshold. The triplets stood as if enchanted, not daring to move closer. But I did not see Roman.
"Are you really...our mother?" whispered the eldest of them, a girl with long brown hair. "What we heard that night...it's true."
I understood why Gianna was asking this. After all, the night I was shot, I didn't have time to answer all their questions.
I smiled with difficulty, holding out my hand.
"Yes, my dears. I am your mother."
The youngest, Jane, stepped forward, but then stopped, turning to Natasha, who was still standing. She was standing nearby, a little further away from the children, her arms folded across her chest. There was concern in her eyes, but she did not interfere.
"Mel, why are you..." the girl began, but she was interrupted by the creaking of floorboards as Natasha stepped forward.
But then she turned around, but now her gaze was focused not on the triplets, but on me on the bed.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to talk to Roman," she said dryly, not looking at the children. "You just said it yourself.
I frowned. I knew she was right but I wanted more after almost dying.
"Natasha, not now..."
"Right now, because if you don't deal with him now, you never will," Natasha answered sharply. She walked up to the children and gently but firmly took their hands. "Come with me."
"But..." Gianna began, her eyes widening in confusion.
"Everything will be fine," Natasha said confidently. She looked at me as if challenging me. "They won't be for long. You have time to tell Roman what he needs to hear."
The children froze, feeling the tension in the air. The eldest reached out hesitantly toward me on the bed.
"We'll come back? And then we can talk?"
I nodded, my eyes filling with tears.
"Of course, darling. I'm waiting for you."
Natasha carefully but firmly led the triplets out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, I struggled to get up on my elbows in bed.
"Is this necessary?" I asked, breathing heavily.
A man appeared in the doorway. His dark eyes studied my face. More precisely, Roman just kicked the damn door down. That's what he was waiting for. When I'm left alone after our children are convinced that I'm okay.
"You leave me no choice," he said coldly.
I flinched, but looked him straight in the eyes.
"Then let's talk." I raised my eyebrows, sure. "What the hell are you doing?"
Roman smiled strangely and closed the door, leaning his back against it tiredly.
"What?" He shrugged. "They're our kids. And our kids aren't going to live in the Italian mafia's compound."
"Great, so it's all because of your ego." I snorted. "Of course."
"That's not true, krasavica." He smiled. "I've already said everything."
"And what should I do after you repented?"
"Surrender?" he asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow.
"Never," I replied coldly, wiping the dried blood from my palm.
"Of course, you're Melissa - the one who never knows when to stop. Even when she's losing." He added, taking a step forward.
"You're just afraid to admit that I was right," I snapped.
Roman laughed. His laugh was unexpectedly warm, and I felt a strange warmth in my chest.
"Right? You? Remind me when was the last time you even realized what you were doing?" He shook his head. "You just rush into battle without thinking about the consequences."
"And you?" I asked sharply as I leaned closer. "Are you always sure that your actions are right? You destroy everything in your path, leaving no room for doubt."
"Because doubt kills," he answered seriously, dropping his hands to his sides.
There was a moment of silence between us. I studied his face, trying to understand what was behind that confident mask.
"Doubt makes us stronger," I said quietly, looking down. "If we doubt, it means we can still feel."
Roman frowned. My words had touched something inside him that he had been trying to hide for a long time. "Feelings make us weak, Mel. They prevent us from seeing the truth. Just look at how far we've come simply because we felt."
"No," I shook my head. "They make us fight. For what's really important."
My voice wavered, and my husband noticed it. He took another step closer, not with a weapon like we usually had, but with a barely noticeable doubt in his eyes. But I'm tired of running from these feelings. I can't anymore.
"What are you trying to prove, krasavica?" he asked. "That your truth is more important than mine?"
I looked up at him, full of rage, pain and... something else.
"I'm trying to prove that we don't have to be enemies," I admitted, my voice almost a whisper. "At least for the sake of the children."
Yes, I am angry that he did this. That he ruined my life, that he believed my words back then that were lies and that he brought the children here. But I can't deny that my hatred was just a mask.
Mask of love.
Roma froze. My words hit him harder than any knife.
"We can't be... anyone else," he finally answered, his voice strangely quiet.
"Why?" I asked, leaning even closer. They were now only centimeters apart.
He looked at me as if he was searching for an answer. But instead he raised his hand and gently touched my cheek.
"Because then I'll lose what keeps me going. Your hatred. Because it's the only thing that can make you feel anything."
"My hatred won't save you, Roma," I said, my voice soft. "It will just destroy you. Destroy everything."
His fingers trembled and he pulled his hand away.
"You are too naive, krasavica. That's just you."
"And you're too afraid to feel anything but my rage," she whispered. "Again."
He wanted to answer something, but he fell silent. Something in my eyes made him stop. It was not just a challenge. It was trust.
"Do you believe me?" he asked, struggling to find the words.
"Yes." I replied. It's time to be honest so that we can deal with our enemies together.
Roma froze. This simple word turned his whole world upside down.
"Why?"
"Because despite everything, I see who you really are." My voice shook.
His heart seemed to stop. For the first time in a long time, he felt vulnerable.
"Krasavica..." he began, but fell silent.
"If we can't stop being enemies because you want me to hate you," I began, looking him in the eye. "Then at least try to be honest with yourself."
I took his hand and placed it on my chest, where my heart was beating wildly. "Do you feel it?"
He nodded, unable to look away.
"This is what makes me strong. This is what can make you strong too. How hard my heart beats for you Roman Kirillov."
And at that moment he realized that there was no more hatred between us. Only a strange, inexplicable closeness that he had never known before. Or rather, he had known it only a year into our marriage.
Roman froze, his fingers still on my chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of my heart. It seemed to him that the world around him had gone silent, leaving only the two of us.
"Mel..." he said quietly, as if tasting my name. "It's impossible. Not anymore. After all, I ruined everything because of stupidity."
I squeezed his hand slightly, not looking away.
"What exactly is impossible? To believe that you can be more than just a weapon in the hands of fate?"
His brows furrowed and his lips took on the usual bitter smile.
"You are too idealistic. It is dangerous."
"Perhaps," I agreed. "But someone has to believe there is a way out."
He was silent, looking at me. My face was so stubborn, so open, that it suddenly became difficult for him to breathe. I believed in him. The real him. Not the warrior he tried to be for the sake of survival, but the man hidden behind years of hatred.
"You know what I did," he finally said, looking away. "All those lives I took... and taking your life."
I lifted his face by the chin, forcing him to look me in the eyes.
"I know," I replied. "And yet I believe there is more to you. Just like there was during the best year of my life."
He stepped back abruptly, as if my words had burned him.
"You don't know what you're saying," his voice hardened. "It's not that simple, Honey. My life is darkness. I don't know how to be anyone else. You were my light that year, but you can't be that again when I hurt you so much."
"Then learn," I said stubbornly, bending my body so as not to feel pain.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you..." He waved his hand, as if trying to find the right word.
"Do I care?" I prompted.
He nodded.
"Because you deserve it," I said.
He laughed, but there was no joy in his laughter.
"Deserve it? Mel, I'm your enemy. I ruined your life, remember?"
"I remember," I nodded. "But you didn't. Not quite. Our story may be almost over, but thanks to you, I am who I am."
"Then why do you trust me?" there was desperation in his voice.
I smiled, but there was sadness in my smile.
"Because I see how you struggle with yourself. You are not what you want to appear to others, Roman Kirillov."
My words hit him again. He felt the walls he had built up over the years crumbling inside him.
"What if I disappoint you?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "Again. Again. And again."
I reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer.
"Then I'll just fight for you even harder. I don't know why but I always will."
Roman looked at me, amazed. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one had ever looked at him like he was valuable. After all, that one year was long in our past.
"Chalk..." he whispered again, and a strange mixture of pain and hope sounded in his voice.
I didn't let him finish, taking one last step forward. Our faces were now so close that he could feel my breath.
"You don't have to do this alone," I said. "Let me help you."
His heart was beating so fast he was afraid I could hear it. But I heard it. He was still hesitating, struggling with himself, but my gaze destroyed his last vestiges of resistance.
"I'm small..." he stuttered again, but this time words were not needed. "Forgive me."
Instead, he leaned closer and, with the slightest hesitation, touched his lips to mine. It was careful, like he was afraid I would push him away. But I could never do that. So instead, I kissed him back, my arms wrapping around his neck, a warmth flaring in my heart that I hadn't felt in so long. Because this warmth was different.
The kiss was short, but it changed everything. When Roman pulled back, his eyes met mine.
"I don't know what's going to happen next," he admitted, his voice sounding like he was about to break down.
"We'll find out together." I said.
He nodded, feeling for the first time in a long time that there was something ahead other than darkness. And I felt it too.
"You probably want to talk to the girls?" he muttered. "I'll call them now."
"Stop." I grabbed his hand. "We'll do this together. You're their father, but please..." I swallowed. "Stay with me. I've missed you."
I didn't let go of his gaze. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had made the right choice. Not a weapon, not hatred, but sincerity. Roman looked confused, as if this moment had caught him more by surprise than any of the naked battles. I didn't expect this from myself, but... when Roman nodded and lay down next to me and my head was on his hard chest, I knew only one thing - I could breathe again.
"If we decide to do this," he finally said, sighing heavily. "You realize that everything will change?"
"I hope so," I replied, my voice soft but confident.
"How is this possible?" he continued. "Have you really forgiven me?"
I shook my head, refusing to back down.
"I couldn't do that for a long time." I agreed. "But...that night in Las Vegas, even if I don't remember what it was like, I know it was like we went back in time because when I opened my eyes and felt you, I was happy. Because I missed it."
Roman snorted, but it was more bitterness than mockery, and his hand pressed me tighter to him.
"You want to know how it was? I can tell you. As long as the children aren't listening."
I laughed and hit him in the chest. "I can't promise you that I'll call off the divorce, but try to convince me with this story."
My skin crawled as his fingers moved further up my arm, past my elbow.
"You were jealous of me, you made a scene and I took you to the hotel."
"Your ego must have gotten even bigger, huh?"
"Of course." He kissed the top of my head. "You argued like the devil. But in the elevator, our arguments turned into a kiss. That was when everything changed. That's when we started feeling what we felt then. Both of us."
"And then you shook me." I rolled my eyes.
"At first I climbed you like you were my sweetest dessert." His voice was hoarse.
"You hate desserts."
"Because you're my favorite dessert." I automatically wrapped my leg around his waist so that my pussy was pressed against his pants.
"What next?"
"You wanted to suck me off." His knee pressed against my center and I moaned softly. "But it was your night, krasavica, although you looked perfect on your knees."
"Next." I whimpered as his knee began to rotate, making my pussy get even wetter.
"Like a bad girl you really wanted me to shake you from behind." His big hand squeezed my ass and it became even harder for me to breathe.
"And you would do that?" I sobbed as I began to rub myself against him like a cat.
"You are my mistress," he growled. "So of course."
"And what next?" I raised my head, not paying attention to the pain, because the orgasm was approaching.
"You wanted to see me when I fucked your tight pussy from behind." This only hastened my release. "And I did as you wanted again. And then when I turned you over, I didn't fuck you. I loved you. I made love to you Melissa Kirillova."
"Shut up," I yelled.
"You said the same thing that night, but the truth is that our love is hatred for each other, krasavica."
"Oh my God!" I don't know how but my head fell limply onto his chest as the fog of orgasm overcame me. I felt like I was drowning and couldn't breathe but it felt good. It felt so good to be on the brink of death. The truth was somewhere far away.
"Well, then? Do you want to live your whole life just to deny what we feel? You obviously published this story."
"And you? Don't you live for these feelings?" I asked sharply, my voice once again taking on the familiar tartness. Although I still felt the fog.
"You too."
I looked down, my shoulders dropped a little and I relaxed.
"Maybe I lived like that before," I admitted. "But now I realize that it's not real life."
Roman fell silent, but his fingers deftly combed through the strands of my hair. Mine were simple, but they found a response inside him, somewhere deep, where he was afraid to look.
"Mel..." he began, but fell silent, as if he didn't know how to continue.
"What?" I asked quietly, looking at him.
He looked away, scanning the distant horizon as if searching for answers there.
"You think we can... do this? Again."
I nodded, my eyes sparkling with determination.
"Yes. But only if you want it yourself. For the sake of the enemies. And for the sake of our children."
Roman thought for a moment. He ran his other hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts.
"All I knew was fighting," he finally said. "I'm not even sure I knew how to live any other way. Well, I knew, thanks to you, but it was like a dream that I didn't know if I could do it anymore."
"Then I will teach you again," I said, my voice unexpectedly gentle.
His gaze met mine again, and there was no longer that stern wall in it that I usually kept between us. Now they were the eyes of a man searching for hope.
"Mel..." He leaned down as I leaned my head down too. "Why are you doing this? Why for me? After everything."
I reached out and lightly touched his face, my fingers warm and soft.
"Because I see something in you that you haven't noticed yet. I always have."
Roman closed his eyes for a moment, feeling my touch. Doubt and desire were fighting in his chest, but now the desire to be near me was starting to win.
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," he said, opening his eyes. "Again."
I smiled, and there was so much warmth in that smile that it made it easier for him to breathe.
"I'm not afraid. Because you're stronger than you think. Your heart is stronger."
He sighed and, for the first time in a long time, allowed himself to relax. Mentally."
"Okay," he said. "But if it doesn't work, you'll owe me..."
"Should what?" I asked with a playful smile.
"Save me again," he replied, smiling back. "After all, only the queen of my heart can do that."
I laughed, and the sound of my laughter was like music to his ears. I kissed him, but Natasha's voice brought us back to reality.
"Oh my God, this is a hospital." She cleared her throat. "The kids are waiting for answers and they're clearly lisping Roma because they're so impatient."