The doorbell drills into my skull like a dentist's drill. I press the pillow harder against my ears, but it's useless. Ten minutes. Nonstop. Each shrill ring feels like claws dragging down glass.
"Stop it," I whisper into the mattress, but the ringing only grows louder in my head. Finally, defeated, I stumble to the door and fling it open.
"Sara! Finally!" Valerie's arms wrap around me before I can react, her perfume overwhelming in my fog of tears. "What is wrong with you? Why did you leave Libor's? I've been looking everywhere. Did something happen?"
I can't meet her eyes. My vision blurs anyway, and the tears spill over.
"That bastard," Valerie mutters as she pulls me onto the couch, rocking me gently like a child.
When I finally manage to breathe again, I tell her everything I overheard at Libor's. Every word still tastes like ash on my tongue.
"Val… tell me everything you know about Natasha. And don't you dare leave anything out."
Valerie hesitates, her jaw tight. "Natasha is Petrov's ex. Her father and Petrov were supposed to merge their companies—turn it into a family empire. Marriage, business, the whole thing. But Petrov found fraud in the father's accounts. He pulled out, and the relationship collapsed with it."
My stomach twists. So he was meant to marry her. He and Natasha—marriage, business empire, children, everything. A life already planned. And I was just… a detour.
The thought burns and I cry again, heavier this time, like my body is made only for grief.
"You know what?" Valerie's voice softens, but she forces a smile. "I've got an idea. Move in with me. At least you won't be here alone. We'll eat, we'll go out, we'll dance every night until your feet fall off. What do you think?"
I shake my head. "I'd be terrible company."
"Nonsense." Her tone sharpens. "I won't leave you here to rot. Besides, this will be the first place Petr looks for you. Better you're with me."
She's right, and though my bones feel too heavy to move, I let her persuade me. I pack a few things and leave the place that smells of Petr's shadow behind.
---
Valerie's apartment is light and alive, a stark contrast to my cave of blinds and silence. "I'm always lonely here," she admits as I set my bag down. "You've actually done me a favor."
"I should be thanking you. For giving me a place to breathe."
"But Sara…" she pauses, leveling me with that look that always pierces deeper than I want. "You'll have to face him someday."
The thought alone raises goosebumps. I know she's right. He'll find me eventually—at work, at Valerie's, anywhere. He's Petr.
That night, we open a bottle of wine and sink into gossip like old times. Valerie's stories make me laugh so hard I forget myself for brief, golden moments. Her magic is pulling me back to the surface—until exhaustion claims me.
"I'm going to bed," I whisper, yawning.
"Me too," she says, disappearing into her room.
But sleep doesn't come easy. I lie in Valerie's guest bed, staring into the dark. Petr's face won't leave me. His laugh, his hands, the way he baked muffins after I told him I loved him. I cry into the pillow until dawn.
---
The morning slaps me awake with clattering pans and a rolling nausea that grips my stomach like a fist. I barely make it to the bathroom before I'm hunched over the toilet, emptying everything I had left.
The cramps are brutal, forcing me down onto the cold tiles.
"Oh my God—Sara?" Valerie's voice is sharp with panic. She kneels beside me, rubbing my back as I heave again.
When the storm inside me finally eases, I rinse my mouth and stagger to the sink, pale and trembling.
"You can't be hungover," Valerie says. "We barely had two glasses of wine."
"I know," I croak, though another thought has already lodged itself in my mind. I shove it away instantly. Impossible. Just impossible. Five days late doesn't mean anything.
"Val?"
Her voice is too calm now, almost careful.
"Yeah?" I answer without turning.
She hesitates, then drops it like a stone into the silence:
"Sara… aren't you pregnant?"
My blood runs cold. The words echo against the bathroom walls, louder than the doorbell, louder than my own heartbeat.