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CXCVC : hearts worn thin, hands too heavy
Last Updated:
2025-05-10 17:22:57
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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
His Son, Her Secret CXCIII : Low Battery
Pascha drove with one hand, the other occasionally reaching out to the dashboard to change the music as he pleased. For most of the drive, he whistled and, much to my annoyance, kept looking at me, smugly.I leaned my head against the window. “Stop looking at me like that.”“Like what?” His voice was casual.“Like you know something I don’t.”He chuckled . “But I do know something you don’t, Mrs. Romanov.”I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to stop calling me that, are you?”“Nope,” he said, without a hint of guilt. “Because now it’s official. Legal. And you can’t undo it just by... rolling your eyes like that.”I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to erase every trace of exhaustion and leftover emotion from the night before. I still hadn’t fully processed it all. That I was now... his wife.My house came into view in the distance. The ocean shimmered gold behind it. And as always, Pascha’s mansion loomed next door, a constant reminder that I’d never really be able to escape him.
His Son, Her Secret CXCII : Veni, Vidi, Amavi .... I Let the Sea Keep Mine
My body tensed. I squirmed out of his embrace. The sand scraped against my palms as I pushed myself up to sit straight. I turned to look at Pascha."Can you just... not do that?"He stared at me for a moment, blankly.I went on. “That line you just said… God, seriously, it was so cheesy.”Pascha tilted his head , his eyes narrowing. And before I could add anything to emphasize the disgust still crawling down my spine, he laughed, irritating one.“Oh, come on,” he said, playfuly. “I thought it was kinda romantic.”I let out a long breath and edged a bit farther away, brushing sand off my arm. “Romantic?” I scoffed. “That sounded like a soap opera line Clara would obsess over.”Pascha shrugged. “Still, you heard it.”“I heard it because you whispered it right into my ear!” I snapped, whipping my head toward him. “It was....it was creepy, Pascha. Creepy and corny and... I don’t know. But gross!”He laughed again.. “I forgot,” he murmured. “You’re allergic to anything sweet.”Before I cou
His Son, Her Secret CXI : Whispers of the Past
I came down the stairs at seven a.m., my steps slow on the oak wood that felt too expensive—and far too quiet—for the storm inside my chest. The sound of waves drifted in from afar through a slightly cracked window, filling the air with sea salt and cool mist. Morning light slipped softly into the living room, brushing over thick rugs and cream velvet couches that looked like they belonged in an architecture magazine.The Romanov villa in Carmel… was too perfect.Too still.And for the first time since last night, I was thankful for that.No heavy footsteps on the floor.No clinking glasses.No low voice saying my name in that way that short-circuited my entire nervous system.No Pascha.I let out a quiet sigh—half relief, half disbelief. I wasn’t ready this morning. Not for his stare. Too honest. Too lit. Too full of history.I made my way to the kitchen. The interior looked like something out of another world—gray marble counters veined with white like paintings, dark wood cabinets
His Son, Her Secret CXC : Warmth, Ruin & Tart Guardian
His embrace felt like the world I almost left behind—warm, stubborn, and heavy with the shadows of our past.But I couldn’t breathe.Not because he was holding me too tightly, but because my mind was too full. Too loud. Too much to process all at once.I pressed my hand gently against his chest. One small push. Then another, firmer.Pascha let go slowly, but his gray eyes stayed locked on me like he was afraid I’d vanish if he blinked.I took two steps back, holding in a breath that burned like embers in my chest.“I need some time alone,” I said softly.Pascha frowned but didn’t speak.“Another room. In this villa. I know this place is huge—too huge. You can sleep wherever you want. But I need space. I need… somewhere that isn’t you.”My voice nearly cracked, but I forced it to hold.He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, and I could see something stirring inside him. Not anger. Not guilt.But love—raw and unsure of what shape to take in a moment like this.Then he steppe
His Son, Her Secret CLXXXIX : the page i didn’t read
I fell silent.The only sound was the faucet still running, water hitting the metal sink like a downpour in the middle of silence.That sentence echoed in my head."You're my wife, Bee."I blinked.Once.Twice.Then the world started to spin.Not the usual kind of dizziness, not a migraine from lack of sleep or too much caffeine. This was... like my logic was twisted, crushed, and thrown off the highest cliff without warning.My heart started pounding—not from emotion, but because my brain couldn’t process something this big… this absurd… this Pascha.I took a step back.Then another.My hand reached for the cold edge of the kitchen counter, gripping it just to stay upright.“What... did you just say?” I whispered, even though I’d heard him. Too clearly.He just looked at me, eyes steady, shoulders still slightly leaning forward like a man who just dropped a bomb in the middle of a city and was waiting to see if there’d be an explosion.I laughed.It was dry. Empty. The laugh of someo
His Son, Her Secret CLXXXVIII : What Remains of Us
The cold air hit my skin like a slap of reality.I stared at my reflection in the villa’s bathroom mirror—cream marble walls too smooth to be real, warm lighting that made my swollen eyes look softer, and a wide sink with a bottle of liquid soap that probably cost more than my shoes.But my face... was still the same.Tired eyes. Cracked lips. Unsteady breath.I wiped my cheek with a white towel—clean, lavender-scented—then looked at myself again.“This is the end,” I said quietly.My own voice sounded unfamiliar. But steady.“It has to end. Tonight.”I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling the front pieces back and tying them at the back of my head with a small band I found in my bag. The rest of my short hair fell around my neck—light, out of the way. Practical. Sharp. Just like my intention for tonight.I looked down at my wrinkled sweater—sage green, a color I used to love, now feeling like a burden. My jeans itched too, dusty from the car ride and too much heat from earlier ang
His Son, Her Secret CLXXXVII : how dare the sun still set
“I hate you.”That was the first thing I said after the car crossed the gate and turned onto the main road. My voice cracked. My breathing was still uneven. One hand clutched the seatbelt, the other trembled in my lap.“You think this is funny? Bringing her into your house? Around Max?!”Pascha stayed silent. His left hand rested calmly on the wheel, the right on the gearshift. His eyes were locked on the road like there wasn’t a storm sitting right next to him.“You really don’t realize what a bastard you are, do you?”Still no response.“You’re insane. You’re.....you’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met! You showed up at my house bleeding, crawled into my bed. MY BED, and the next day you brought her to your house?!”Still nothing. The car kept rolling forward, eating up pavement in a steady rhythm.“And you let Max laugh with her? Sit next to her? What.....what’s next, he calls her ‘Mommy’? Is that it? That your plan? To replace me? Hand her the title?”No answer.I turned to h
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