Veronica
Two Months After the Engagement
“Nika. Hey, Nika,” Khrystya snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You with me?”
“Yeah,” I say, sipping my now-cold cappuccino. “Just lost in thought.”
“About who? Missing your fiancé?” She smirks slyly. “Have you two even picked a date yet?”
“It’ll be in August. Gleb’s pushing for early in the month, but I’m fine with waiting until the end.”
“Why are you dragging your feet? You could already be married and happy by now.”
“I got sick,” I reply, using the excuse my parents and Gleb came up with.
“With what?” She eyes me suspiciously. “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”
“Some viruses are just too dangerous,” I sigh. The virus that’s burrowed under my skin is probably incurable. It’s too toxic.
“And you couldn’t even answer calls? I tried reaching you so many times, and then your phone was just off.”
“I got a new SIM card, but then… I lost it.”
“And decided to go back to the old one,” she scoffs. “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine, but don’t feed me nonsense. I get it, maybe you got cold feet since everything moved so fast. Knowing how much you value your freedom, you could’ve just asked for time, and sweet Gleb would’ve given in. Right?”
“Something like that.”
“What about the dress?”
“I’ll wear the same one. No one’s seen it anyway.”
“You could buy a new one, but you don’t want to? Girl, I don’t even recognize you anymore.”
“I like it.”
“You don’t seem very excited. And you’ve lost more weight than you should’ve. Are you nervous?”
“Yeah. I’ve gotta run,” I say, glancing at my watch. “Need a ride?”
“Nah, Misha’s picking me up.”
“You’re back together?” I ask, surprised. I can’t remember if she mentioned anything about her ex.
“Summer’s around the corner, and I’ll be home. Gotta unwind somehow,” she grins.
“So…” I trail off, processing her words slowly.
“When I leave, he’ll have to find someone else. For now, I’m just soaking up his attention.”
Our meetups used to feel exciting. We became close in high school and were best friends for a long time. When Khrystya left to study abroad, I even fell into a bit of a depression for a while. But now, talking to her just gives me a headache. Nothing meaningful or interesting comes up. Chitchat about clothes, jewelry, vacations, and gossip about mutual acquaintances doesn’t interest me anymore. I crave peace. I want to escape from everyone. To stop thinking, stop feeling. To forget. To stop crying.
I drive to the office in my car. Today, Dad is transferring the entire business to me. For almost three months this summer, I’ll be learning the ropes and gaining experience at the office. Then comes the wedding, a trip, and university. As Alice puts it, these are my last months to say goodbye to my soul before a manipulator snatches it away. I can’t say Gleb mistreats me, but our relationship feels strained. We attend events together, but we barely talk to each other. He gives me jewelry and flowers in front of my parents, acts sweet, and invites me to dinners. It’d be nice if our marriage could stay like this—no kisses, no intimacy.
When I arrive at Dad’s office, everyone’s already gathered. I glance disapprovingly at his coffee cup but say nothing. He’s not supposed to have it; the doctor forbade it. After a heart attack he barely survived, Dad had a mini-stroke. He spent a long time in the hospital after intensive care, then he and Mom went on a vacation, and he slowly got back to normal. Of course, there are plenty of restrictions and recommendations, pills he has to take regularly, but he’s still with us, and that’s what matters most.
The whole process doesn’t take long. We sign the papers, and the lawyer finalizes everything. From now on, I’ll have my own office where I’ll dive into the ins and outs of the business. After signing, I get to work on setting up my workspace. I’m even a little glad that poring over documents will leave me less time to wallow in depression.
“Nika,” Gleb walks in after a quick knock, “want to grab lunch together?”
“I already ate at a café, so I’m not hungry,” I say without looking up.
“I got you a salad,” he says, placing a container in front of me. He pulls up a chair and sits across from me, digging into his pasta. “Oleksandr Petrovych suggested we celebrate this milestone at a restaurant tonight.”
“I was planning to meet a friend,” I reply. The mere thought of a celebration fills me with dread. My parents and I barely speak; they’re still upset with me for running away. It’d be more like torture than a celebration.
“With Khrystya?”
“No, a classmate,” I say. Gleb knows nothing about Alice. He thinks I ran off to Kyiv alone.
“I’ll talk to him about rescheduling the celebration, then.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking a bite of the salad.
“I’m not your enemy, Nika,” he says, looking at me intently.
“I know,” I reply, avoiding his gaze.
I’ve wanted to ask him again how he found me in Kyiv, but I don’t want to bring up Arsen. Or rather, I can’t. I need to forget him. Start a new life and clear my head of everything unnecessary. Now I carry a heavy responsibility on my shoulders; I can’t let Dad down, especially with his health. But there are long, lonely nights when I’d even be willing to fall for Gleb just to stop remembering Arsen’s kisses and the warmth of being near him. How do you heal a broken soul? Why, after so many centuries, haven’t people invented a real cure for those wounded by love?
“About selling part of the business, do you understand everything?”
“I get why we’re doing it.”
“It’s the best option out of all the possibilities. And later, we’ll not only be able to buy back that share but also expand. Put the business on solid ground.”
“Do we already have a buyer?”
“Yeah, Oleksandr Petrovych handled everything. He didn’t let me get involved. He did all the talking and arranged the paperwork.”
“He shouldn’t be pushing himself so hard. He forgets to take his pills when he’s working and doesn’t stick to his routine.”
“Things will get easier soon. I’m not working with my uncle anymore. I’ll be dedicating all my time to the business here. Don’t worry,” he says, flashing an unexpected smile, “everything will be fine.”
I should thank him, but I just nod. If I think about it, Gleb really is helping, but the price he’s set is steep. I’m not ready for it, but… I have to be.
“What’s the new partner’s name?”
“Uh, let me think,” he pauses, “I’m terrible with names. Mayevsky… Vitaliy, I think. Do you know him? Because I’ve got no clue.”
“No, first time I’ve heard of him. But honestly, what does his name matter? The important thing is that everything works out and we find common ground.”