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2025-01-22 20:00:00
Maya EastWARNING! This is the previous chapter that has been edited.
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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
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
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