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CLI : Midnight Whispers & Morning Mayhem [Flashback]

Penulis: Maya East
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-03-31 07:19:29

Night descended quickly over Siberia, bringing with it the creeping cold. The night wind struck the wooden walls of the cabin, rustling and whispering in a low, soothing tone. The fire in the hearth still burned, its flames dancing in golden-orange shadows across the rough wooden walls.

I lay on the rough yet surprisingly soft wooden cot, a thick blanket wrapped tightly around me. Trisha lay next to me, curled up with her face hidden beneath the covers. Her breathing had evened out, signaling that she had fallen into a deep sleep after today’s long journey.

But I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the sound of the wind howling outside or perhaps it was the swirl of thoughts racing through my mind. I glanced toward Pascha and Igor, who were sitting on the other side of the room. They were near the hearth, which was slowly dying down, talking in low tones that I could only partly make out. Their Russian flowed quickly and smoothly, sounding more like murmurs than distinct words.

Pascha turned
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Komen (2)
goodnovel comment avatar
Nash Husinhasan
please I want flashback when Pascha is having relationship with Michaela.
goodnovel comment avatar
Nash Husinhasan
if Pascha is in love with Belva in the past why did he betray her.
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  • His Son, Her Secret   CCII : wetter when i lie

    Pascha didn’t give me a chance to breathe.His lips crashed into mine again, but this time it was different. No longer gentle, no longer asking for permission. He struck, dominated, set every corner of my mouth on fire with explosive desperation.The hands that had held me so carefully now gripped my waist, pulling me so close there was no space left between us. I tried to keep up, but he was too fast, too wild. His tongue pushed in, digging, claiming, and all I could feel was heat spreading from my fingertips to my ribcage. My hands, once wrapped around his neck, now clawed at his shoulders.My nails might have left marks, but he pushed in deeper.He tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth, biting gently before sucking it in, and I moaned silently. His hand crept to the back of my neck, holding my head in place, making sure I couldn’t escape—as if I would.The air was thin, my mind foggy, but all I could feel was him. The scent of the ocean on his skin, the taste of salt on his tongu

  • His Son, Her Secret   CCI : the last tear fell into his kiss

    “Or maybe…” he said, “you don’t have to think about it anymore.”I frowned. “Pascha...”“Let me handle it,” he cut in. “All of it... the threats, the messages, Ben, Julian, your inheritance—everything. You’ve been the center of something you were never meant to carry alone for far too long.”I looked down, staring at my hands in my lap. The nail on my middle finger was chipped. I hadn’t even realized I’d started biting it again.“I can’t... not know anymore, Pash,” I murmured. “I was blind once. For five years. And I can’t do that again.”He didn’t answer. Just slowly moved closer.Pascha’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. Warm. Steady. I felt myself drawn to him like gravity. Too tired to fight it. I didn’t cry. I didn’t tremble. But when my head touched his chest, something inside me finally crumbled.Quietly.“Your breath’s still too heavy to carry all of this alone,” he whispered into my hair. “That’s enough, Bee. It’s my turn now to carry what’s left. To make it right.”I took a d

  • His Son, Her Secret   CC : i named you safe.

    The sky had started to turn orange as I walked slowly along the sidewalk by the beach. The sun leaned westward, and my shadow stretched long across the sand.My steps felt heavy, but I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Not ready to see Pascha, or Max, or the pile of realities waiting behind the gate of our house.My feet stopped in front of a small beachside stall with a woven roof. Never crowded, but always lively enough to lose yourself in the noise of the sea wind. The scent of fresh coconut and the rhythmic sound of an old man peeling them felt oddly comforting. Too familiar.Too Julian.I ordered a young coconut. Cold. Fresh. Just like that day, the one where I sat here with Julian, sipping coconut water and talking about anything and everything that wasn’t pain. I laughed that day. Today, it feels like there’s a stone sitting on my chest.I sat on the long wooden bench facing the ocean. Coconut water in hand, the plastic straw curling slightly toward me. I took a slow sip. It still t

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXCIX : static on the line

    Belva.My laptop glowed bright, a mess of HTML code, Python scripts, and encryption apps mashed together in a way that could give anyone a migraine in five minutes.Unfortunately, Kiano and I had been staring at it for almost two hours.“I feel like we’re trying to hack the Pentagon,” I muttered, massaging the bridge of my nose.Kiano didn’t answer. He just kept typing furiously, eyes squinting, laser-focused on the screen. The monitor’s light reflected off his slightly crooked round glasses. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, and he leaned into the desk with the kind of posture that, if not for the tech frustration, could almost pass as cool to a freshman crowd.I finally collapsed onto the couch, pulled a thin blanket over my legs, and let the laptop fend for itself.“I give up for now. I need... motivation,” I mumbled, pulling out my phone and opening my chatbox with Pascha.A video of Max and Mischa from Pascha lit up the screen. Max was showing off a DIY robot while

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXCVIII : The General, The Dragon, and The Gourmet Rebel [Pascha]

    Max and Mischa were deep in a debate over who got to be the general of their Lego army.“I have a tank!” Max shouted.Mischa shot back, “But I have a plan!”Life… still looked normal on the surface.Christian stood, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a black tablet that hadn’t been turned on yet. “You sure you don’t want to come into the office?”I didn’t answer. Just spun a pen between my fingers. Once. Twice. Then stopped.Christian finally turned, his gaze sharp. “What if Mrs. Romanova finds out who’s behind this?”I stayed silent, leaning back into the chair and letting my head rest against the leather cushion.If my wife finds out—Who’s really been pulling the strings behind all of this…Who started the unraveling five years ago,Who made her believe she’d been betrayed,Who made me lose her at the altar,Who orchestrated the video, the manipulation,And the wound she’s been nursing all on her own—She’ll break.Not just get angry. Not just hurt.She’ll break in a way I m

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXCVII : the code, the kiss, the countdown

    “Tetya,” Mischa’s voice was soft and sharp, “you’re staring at that batter like you want to pick a fight with it.”I blinked. “Huh?”“That pancake’s innocent,” she went on seriously, her chin lifted. “Don’t blame it for your life.”Max nodded solemnly, even though his mouth was full of banana. “Yeah. Blame Daddy. He’s the one who makes Mommy stressed out.”“I heard that,” Pascha’s voice came from the dining room.I flipped the pancake, ignoring the dull throb in my temple that had started ever since that message came in.“Tetya,” Mischa peeked out from behind the breakfast bar, narrowing her eyes. “You look... weird.”I turned to her, trying to smile. “Weird how?”“Like a cat who saw its own shadow and is now convinced the world’s ending.”I couldn’t help a small laugh. This kid always had the most ridiculous, and most accurate, metaphors.“I’m just a little tired,” I replied, setting the pan down and starting to plate the first pancake.Mischa leaned over the table, inspecting the pa

  • His Son, Her Secret   CLXVI : where the batter breaks, i breathe

    Morning light slipped through the half-open curtains. The room was still cold, the air filled with the scent of clean linen and... something familiar.That cologne....always too masculine for my taste, and yet, strangely comforting.I opened my eyes.And instantly regretted it.Pascha.Shirtless.Sitting on the edge of my bed, looking at me like a man who just found water in the middle of a desert. His hair was messy, a few strands falling over his forehead, and damn it—that look.The one that always made me want to curse and crawl into a hole at the same time.“Oh God,” I groaned, pulling the blanket up over my chest out of reflex.“Good morning to you too, Mrs. Romanova,” he murmured lazily, a smirk tugging at one side of his lips. “Sleep well?”“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” I growled.He shrugged, unbothered. “Old habits. Back when we were dating, you never complained.”I sat up instantly, narrowing my eyes at him. “That was years ago. And we—”“—are married now,” he cut in, gr

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXCVC : hearts worn thin, hands too heavy

    I pressed the red button, ended the video call, and let my phone drop onto the couch. I held my breath for a moment, head bowed, eyes locked on the wooden floor like I was hoping an answer would rise from the cracks between the planks.“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”The voice was deep, heavy, and too close.I jolted. My head snapped up.Pascha was standing in the doorway of my room, one shoulder resting casually against the frame, but his eyes… sharp. Serious. Eyes that looked at me like they could read every layer I’d carefully kept hidden all this time.I let out a quiet sigh, turning my face away for a second. “How long have you been standing there?”“Long enough,” he answered without hesitation. “Long enough to know you’re hiding something… important.”I looked away again. “I’m not hiding anything. I just—”“Just what?” he cut in, voice rising slightly but still in control. He pushed the door, already half open, a little farther and stepped inside, now just a few steps away

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXCIV : Two Gremlins and a God Complex

    I tossed Max onto the bed.Not tossed as in really tossed, but just enough to make him bounce and laugh like a tiny ball that had lost its sense of gravity.Mischa followed a second later, arms stretched out like a failed superhero, landing with a dramatic “UFH!” before rolling over and grumbling, “You threw me like a trash bag!”I raised an eyebrow, standing at the edge of the bed with my arms crossed. “You know, some kids beg to be thrown into Disneyland. You get a soft bed and free drama.”Max burst into laughter. Mischa glared at me.“That’s enough. You two little gremlins... it’s bedtime,” I huffed, trying to sound stern.Mischa had already curled herself up like a burrito in her blanket, only her eyes peeking out as she glanced over at Max.Max, of course, wasn’t done yet. “Daddy,” he said, sitting upright on the bed, “Mommy should sleep here tonight.”I paused, looking at that little face which, unfortunately, had inherited the Romanov face and stubbornness. And he knew it. He

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