Chapter 4: Lillian

“Why weren’t you there, Ana?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked at my kick-ass roommate—the one who had, inexplicably and effortlessly, become my best friend within mere moments of us meeting.

Ana looked down, her fingers nervously fiddling with the zipper of her small suitcase. She was heading home for the weekend, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before her big brother came to pick her up. She always left on Fridays with that same little suitcase, one I was pretty sure had never been washed or cleaned, and yet somehow still managed to look stylish—just like everything else she owned.

She was taller than me by a few inches, with a body that could make even the most seasoned supermodels green with envy. Every runway designer would beg to dress Anastasia Volkov, and frankly, so would I if I were them. She had this magnetic energy about her—an effortless confidence that made you want to be her, or at least be close to her.

Her hair color was impossible to define. It was one of those rare hues that shifted with the seasons. During the colder months, it took on a rich, warm light-brown shade—one I would definitely label as brunette. But as soon as spring turned to summer and the sun began to make more regular appearances, streaks of gold would start threading through her hair, giving it this natural sun-kissed blonde tone that sparkled in the light. Combined with her dark, smoldering eyes and her flawless skin, Ana wasn’t just beautiful—she was striking. One of those people you didn’t forget after meeting.

“Something got in the way,” she said, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. But I knew her too well. My bullshit radar went off before she even finished the sentence. Her voice had that overly casual tone that only made me more suspicious.

“You’re my best friend, Ana. Things don’t just come up when your best friend gets engaged,” I argued, my voice sharper than I intended it to be. I had even asked Robert about it last night, genuinely curious, and he had told me he didn’t know why she hadn’t shown up.

Ana let out a long, tired sigh, her shoulders sagging on either side like someone who had been carrying too much weight for too long. She gave up on her suitcase, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud, before turning around to face me. Those deep brown eyes met mine—the same eyes that could easily transform into puppy eyes whenever she was trying to steal my last bag of Lays chips.

“I wasn’t invited, Lil,” she said quietly, her voice laced with a kind of emotional exhaustion that told me she hadn’t wanted to admit it—hadn’t wanted me to know.

I furrowed my brows, confusion rippling through me as I shifted my weight awkwardly from foot to foot. That didn’t make any sense. Robert would’ve told me if he hadn’t invited her. He knew how important she was to me. He knew we were inseparable.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” I said again, still trying to process what she’d just told me. “Robert would have—”

“Robert doesn’t like me very much,” Ana cut in gently, stepping closer to me. Her hands came to rest lightly on my arms, rubbing them with soft, soothing motions. “And that’s okay. That’s fine.”

I opened my mouth to object, to argue that it wasn’t okay, but she beat me to it.

“Let me see that rock,” she said, her tone suddenly lighter, that familiar playful sparkle returning to her eyes. Her lips curled into a smile so dazzling that I couldn’t help but match it, no matter how confused or hurt I felt in the moment.

I looked at her—this woman who had become the brightest part of my life since the moment we moved in together—and made a choice. I could spend my time being upset, trying to pick apart something I might never fully understand… or I could enjoy this new chapter with her by my side.

So I smiled, really smiled, and extended my hand, showing her the massive ring now sitting on my finger. Her eyes immediately widened, her mouth falling open in shock as she reached out and took my hand, examining the diamond like she was inspecting a museum artifact.

“You can even see where the Titanic hit it,” she muttered, her voice hushed with awe.

“Stop it,” I said with a laugh, swatting her playfully.

Robert and I didn’t live together—not yet. He’d insisted that I make the most of college life, that I enjoy the freedom and independence that came with it. He said we had the rest of our lives to live together, and honestly, I didn’t mind. I loved living with Ana. We had a rhythm, an understanding. She made everything better.

“You must’ve finally given up that virginity after getting this one,” she teased, raising a wicked brow as she looked up at me.

I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand away and walking into the common area of our apartment. “You know how I feel about this,” I called over my shoulder as I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

“I do,” she said with a dramatic huff, appearing in the doorway and leaning against the frame, arms crossed. “But I just don’t get it. I mean, I have to wait. Otherwise, my brother would murder me and bury whatever poor guy dared to touch me.”

I shrugged, uncapping the bottle and taking a small sip as I turned the words around in my head.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “It’s like… it’s the ultimate gift, you know?” I looked up at her, eyes searching for understanding. “Like, I only get one first time. And for some reason, I feel like if I’m going to give that to a man, he has to give something back. He has to commit to me too.”

Ana was quiet for a moment, studying me like she was seeing a side of me she hadn’t really noticed before. There was something thoughtful in her expression, something that made me feel like I’d finally put into words what had always been just a gut feeling.

“You actually make me appreciate being a virgin,” she said with a chuckle, shaking her head before disappearing back into her room. “I’ve never heard it said like that before.”

“Well,” I said, following after her and taking her place by leaning on the doorframe, “how did your big brother explain it to you?”

Ana came from a very traditional family—not that we talked about it a lot, but maybe that was part of what connected us so quickly. We weren’t exactly the same, but there was a mutual understanding, an unspoken thread of shared values. She didn’t drink, wasn’t into partying or large, chaotic crowds. Despite the confident, sometimes intimidating front she presented to the world, underneath all of that edge was a marshmallow soul. She was all tough shell and soft center, the kind of person who would threaten to punch you in the face before hugging you while you cried.

“I didn’t get an explanation, exactly,” she said, tossing her toiletries into her suitcase in a casual, haphazard manner. “It was more like, someone touches you, and I’ll cut off his hands.” She mimicked the rough voice of her brother with surprising accuracy, waving her hand dramatically through the air. “Oh, and the best one—you touch someone, and they stop breathing.”

She moved her hand in lazy circles as she spoke, like she was reenacting some kind of dramatic opera. My eyes widened, watching her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Whenever Ana spoke about her brother—otherwise known as the Master of the Monosyllable—she made him sound like some menacing mob boss from a bad action movie.

“He really said that?” I asked, unable to keep the incredulous tone out of my voice.

Ana turned around to face me, flashing a wide, toothy grin that lit up her whole face. “I promise, it sounds way less creepy in Russian.”

I rolled my eyes at her and stepped away from the doorframe, flopping onto the old but surprisingly comfortable couch in our common room. That was the thing about Ana—everything sounded better in Russian when she said it. Every time her brother came to pick her up, they would talk in Russian without exception, effectively shutting me out of the conversation entirely. I wasn’t fluent in anything except sarcasm and bad decisions, so I just sat there and smiled politely while pretending not to feel completely excluded.

One time, Ana wasn’t quite ready when he arrived, and I ended up alone in the room with her brother. That ten-minute window felt like a lifetime. I tried to start a conversation, but I had never worked so hard to get another human being to speak to me. He grunted. He blinked. He might have nodded once. Honestly, I’d had better exchanges with the vending machine down the hall. We once had an exchange student in high school who couldn’t speak English but understood it, and even that interaction had more back-and-forth than whatever passed between me and Damien Volkov.

“What are you gonna do this weekend?” Ana shouted from her room just as there was a knock at the door. “Can you answer that?” she added, the sound of zippers and shifting bags coming from behind her.

I sighed, placing my water bottle down on the coffee table with a soft clunk, mentally bracing myself for what would inevitably be the most uncomfortable five minutes of my day. There was no avoiding it—awkwardness and all.

“Probably start on the wedding planning,” I called back, heading toward the door. “Robert wants us married by the end of the school year so I can just move in with him.”

“And just have a bunch of sex, right?” she said, her voice lilting with humor—right as I opened the door.

And there he was.

Damien Volkov.

And big brother wasn’t an understatement. The man standing in the hallway was an intimidating wall of muscle and brooding silence. His dark eyes—just as intense and piercing as Ana’s—locked with mine instantly. His hair was buzzed short, his tattoos visible above the stiff collar of his suit jacket. His jaw looked like it had been carved out of stone, his nose just slightly crooked, like it had taken a punch or two in the past. Everything about him screamed dangerous, and at that moment, he looked absolutely pissed.

He stared at me like I’d just slapped his grandmother. Like I had said something grotesquely offensive—which, to be fair, he had just heard his sister yell something about me and sex. Great timing, as always.

“That was so out of context,” I blurted, pointing my thumb back into the apartment like that would explain it all. As if my gesture could somehow erase what he’d just heard.

He didn’t say a word. Just stared, dead silent, as if trying to decide whether I was worth the effort of speech. His glare could’ve turned water to ice.

In an effort to defuse the tension, I stepped aside and let him in. His broad shoulders brushed past me as he entered the dorm room. A moment later, I heard him mutter something low and sharp in Russian. Ana responded just as quickly, her tone casual.

Whatever she said made him turn again, his dark eyes dropping to my hand.

“Ain’t it pretty?” Ana said, emerging from her bedroom with her suitcase dragging behind her. Her voice was light, clearly trying to redirect his mood.

“Da,” he replied, his gaze flicking back up to meet mine. It was one of the only Russian words I actually recognized—just a simple yes.

“You’re getting married?” he asked, his voice low, gravelly.

I blinked at him, surprised he’d managed to form a complete sentence. It was the most I’d ever heard him say to me directly.

“I am, yes,” I said, offering a soft, polite smile. It wasn’t a response to a congratulations—because he hadn’t said it like that—but more of a confirmation to a fact he was clearly trying to process.

He studied me for a moment, as though trying to read between the lines of my face. Then, without warning, he gave a short nod, said something in Russian that sounded like a clipped command, and turned on his heel, disappearing out the door again.

Ana grinned, as if none of that had been awkward or weird, and walked over to give me a quick, warm hug. “Have fun planning the wedding!” she sang, far too cheerful.

“Have fun!” I managed to get out, my voice a little strained, just as the door slammed shut behind her.

And just like that, the apartment fell silent. I was alone, standing there with the echo of Damien’s judgmental stare still lingering in the air, with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company. It was suddenly so quiet, so still—and I felt it deep in my chest.

A weight I hadn’t noticed before settled in.

And for the first time in a while, I felt wildly, achingly alone.