Dangerous Husbands, Broken Wives [18+]

FIFTY: KIND OF HEARTBREAKER

[ANASTASIA]

Twelve hours – that's how long it takes for us to fly to Kazan.

Ivan insisted on taking the private plane, and I didn't mind. The sooner we finished the formalities, the better the chances were for Ivan Jr. to start schooling.

To say I'm nervous would be an understatement. I feel much more than that; I'm anxious and restless. I can't even sit for longer than a few minutes, constantly getting up and changing seats. If Ivan has been bothered by my constant movement, he hasn't said anything so far, for which, of course, I'm thankful.

I don't need anyone to nag me at my age and circumstances—especially the man sitting right across from me, my precious husband, Ivan Volkov.

"Here, try this," I hear Ivan say, and I open my eyes only briefly to see what he's offering.

After several walks down the aisle for any excuse I could find, I finally decided to sit and try to get some shut-eye. I already know that sleep won't be welcoming me anytime soon, but I have to try, if only for the sake of my sanity. I don't want to be tired when I'm needed to be cautious the most.

After what happened last time, I can't afford to take any risks. Even though I'm confident Ivan wouldn't let that incident happen again, I just can't hand over my trust to him so easily. There was a time when I trusted him with my entire life, but not anymore. I have my reasons to hold back. I just hope he understands, even if the chances of that happening are very slim.

I sink into my seat, staring at the glass filled with sparkling liquid, trying to understand why he would be offering me liquor. Is that his way to make me loosen up a bit? Not that I'm complaining but still.

I eye him suspiciously.

"What?" He chuckles softly. "You think I'm trying to get you drunk?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Are you?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment, only smirks, his eyes holding a playful gleam.

The corner of his mouth finally quirks up. "Just thought you might want a little something to take the edge off. We've got a long flight ahead. It could help you relax."

I consider his words. The idea of letting my guard down, even just a little, feels foreign. However, there's a part of me that appreciates the gesture. I could use a bit of relaxation; all this anxiety and edginess aren't helping me one bit.

I nod, trusting his judgment one last time, and reach for the glass. The cool surface instantly sends a shiver up my fingertips. I take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through me as the liquid trickles down my throat.

"Thanks."

He raises an eyebrow, a silent acknowledgement. And I hate it that even without words I seem to understand everything he doesn't say.

"So, about this school," I break the awkward silence, hoping to find a common ground. "You mentioned going there too. Tell me something about it. Your experience and everything."

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been pondering his school days since he brought it up. I'm curious about the kind of student he was, his friends, whether he had a girlfriend, if he was the obedient type, or the troublemaker. It's weird that I already have a bunch of questions. It's even weirder that, despite everything that's happened between us, I still find myself intrigued by him.

He leans back in his seat, a thoughtful expression crossing his handsome face as if he's revisiting the past in his mind.

"Well," he starts, taking a sip from his own glass. "Those were different times. I had my share of ups and downs, made some great friends, and maybe a few enemies. Can't say I was the most compliant, but trouble didn't follow me around either." He smiles sadly, shifting his eyes to the window. "If I'm being honest, I believe those were some of the rare times in my life that I don't regret. It was tough adjusting to the new environment, yes, but there was never a dull day that I could remember. Every day, there was something new to look forward to. Every memory was precious in its own way."