October 2023 - Side Story (Pt. 2)

Here's the second part! Enjoy! 💖

First part here!

* * * * *

This time, the door swings open and Sasha stands there, still bedraggled and sleepy. A slight frown is gracing their otherwise perfect face. Seems like you caught them at a bad time. They blink as they seem to finally register what they’re looking at and recognition lights up in their eyes.

“Sorry for the wait,” they say flatly, stepping aside and opening the door wider. “Please, come in.”

You do so. “Good morning, Mastress Morozov,” you greet them as you step in. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“No problem,” they say, closing the door behind you and you hear the automatic lock latches shut; it feels like the final nail in your coffin.

They pass by you and make their way to the kitchen. You trail after them slowly, looking around the penthouse a bit. It’s… nice and clearly expensive. You have to begrudgingly admit, if there’s one thing you approve of Luka taking care of your child is that they would live comfortably and would never have to worry about money again.

Dropping your disguise, you wait for the inevitable, and as you wait, you inspect your child. Of course, this is not the first time you see them all grown up. You might have followed some of their social media accounts on your side and anonymous accounts, but to actually see them in person… It feels unreal.

They finally turn around, probably still sensing your presence, and completely freeze as they see you. Just as you took the time to inspect them, they seem to do the same to you now, looking just as shocked and surprised as how you felt inside.

You fidget under their intense gaze, wringing your hands nervously. “Um… Hi, Sasha,” you say hesitantly, sending them a sheepish smile.

That snaps them out of their trance and they reply, “Please get out before I call the guards.” Their tone is calm and firm, but you can feel the wave of disdain hitting you.

Can you blame them? You would’ve hated yourself too for what you did in the comic bookstore on that fateful day–Heck you already are sometimes.

“Sasha… Please, just hear me out—” You try but they immediately cut you off.

“No. Get out now.” They stride back toward the front door and as they pass you again, you reach out and grab onto their arm out of pure desperation.

“I know you hate me, but please, just hear me out for a few minutes. It's about the murders and your father's killer,” you plead, instinctively gripping the arm harder.

You don’t know whether it works, but they stop in their tracks and they look at you again, clearly contemplating on even giving you a chance to explain yourself. But after a few more seconds, they finally relent.

“Fine.” They tug their arm out of your hold before muttering, “Go and take a seat, I gotta make my coffee.”

Sighing in relief, you obediently saunter over to one of the plush sofas and plop down. You want to look at your child in more detail from afar but feel Sasha staring at you, so you decide to look out of the big panoramic window instead. The outside world looks muted from the fresh layer of fallen snow, a total disconnect from the anxiety and turmoil you’re feeling right now.

Almost reflexively, you reach out to gauge the full depth of what Sasha feels about you. Is it only pure hatred like the one you felt before? You poke a bit, making sure to be discreet… And oh, what’s this? It seems like there’s a hint of… love? Or maybe it’s yearning.

You quickly pull away. Knowing this now just makes you feel even guiltier. But you’re here to make things right… Hopefully.

The sound of the coffee machine beeping almost makes you jolt in surprise. It seems to rouse Sasha from their reverie as well as they turn back towards the counter and grab the cup of freshly brewed coffee. They sip on it as they walk over and take a sit in one of the big armchairs right to your left.

“So, talk. What do you want from me?” they ask straight to the point.

You squirm uncomfortably under their gaze. “Sasha… I’m not going to lie, I desperately need your help,” you tell them honestly, meeting their grey eyes properly this time.

“Why?” They ask coolly, but still, you can sense the hints of anger, confusion, and incredulousness simmering just below it, barely concealed. “You have the biggest company in the city and the ECPD backing you and focusing on the case. You don't need my help,” they spit the last sentence bitterly.

That’s a reasonable assumption to make and you would’ve thought the same too. And so, you tell them everything you know about the investigation so far--or more like about how little both the ECPD and the Agency know so far.

They keep their face and feelings carefully neutral as they listen to your explanation. Your uncanny ability to read people allows you to notice the spark of interest in those stormy grey depths.

After you finish explaining, they shrug. “Sounds like their problem… and yours,” they say coldly, staring her down. “I couldn't give less of a fuck about the Constellation Agency's superhero mess.”

That’s a fair response, you guess, even though it’s not really what you want to hear. "I know, Sasha… Don't worry, I don't really want you to put yourself in danger. I just need you to use your family's web of connections to help find this killer. Please, it's not really a matter of the Agency needing your help. I need your help, desperately. I feel like I'm living on borrowed time…" You frown, shifting restlessly on the sofa, agitated and anxious as you wring your empty hands nervously on your lap.

They scoff bitterly, lips pulled into a snarl, “Oh, now you come to me and acknowledge me because your life is in danger and you need access to my family's resources.” The hatred and anger you felt earlier are amplified this time as they don’t bother trying to suppress them this time.

You flinch and cringe. Those two are such unpleasant emotions to feel and they feel even more rancid when they are directed at you… and from your own flesh and blood too. What hurts even more is that it’s a very justifiable and understandable reaction. You honestly didn’t even expect to come this far…

Maybe, it’s time to actually face what you have done because only then can you make a step towards repairing your relationship with your child--if it’s even still possible. You hope it is.

Gathering your courage, you take a deep breath before finally saying, “I know we'll have to talk openly about… all of this. Ask me about anything you want to know and I'll try my best to answer all of them.”

They stare at you sternly, but their eyes are filled with uncertainty and you can feel their clashing emotions roiling together into something undecipherable even for you. For a second, you thought they would say no and finally dismiss you for good, but it seems the temptation to get answers best their resolve and they finally ask their first question.

“Why did you do it?” they ask, voice soft and quiet. It’s a simple question, but one that’s loaded and you don’t even know where to start.

You can’t make eye contact with them, so you turn away to focus on some distant building in the distance. “Which one?” You realize how many wrong things you’ve done to them and Viktor, even if some of them might be indirect.

“Any. Everything,” they breathe out.

Nothing better than to start at the very beginning. "I… I can't really be seen with you in public as something more than a fan interaction…" you mutter, looking down at her lap. "I didn't really mean it to… go that way, I suppose."

You really don’t. You know now that there might be better ways you could’ve handled it, but you were put on the spot, and that was the only thing that came to your mind. It’s… cruel and you wish you could go back to that time and not do it.

They let out a short bitter laugh. "Like what? Making everyone laugh at me? Is that how you've always treated your 'fans' then? Humiliating them? Or is it just me? Because I'm an… an embarrassment to you?" They spit out the word harshly.

You shake your head vehemently, you rush to reassure them. "No! You've never been an embarrassment to me. Nor your father."

Liar, your thought calls you out. You were totally mortified just from simply having them, that’s why you chose to distance yourself.

That might be true years ago… But you’ve had years to mull and reflect upon it, and you’ve changed. You’ve fully accepted that they are your child and there’s nothing to be embarrassed about it.

"Then why couldn't you just be in my life? Marry my father and be my mother?" they reply back,  voice is breaking a little from the emotion, despite their clear effort to keep it all together. "It's not like being a superhero and having a family are mutually exclusive."

"That's true, but I was not really ready to settle down and most who did that have their career stagnating and fanbase dwindling. Hell, even just openly having a relationship can be a career suicide," you explain.

It’s the truth but it still feels like such a shitty excuse, especially now that you’re older. But still, that fear of falling into irrelevancy haunts you to this day--maybe even more than before. As they say, ‘The higher they rise, the harder they fall.’

"It has always been about your career and public image with you, isn't it? Even now, you come here to me partially to help you salvage whatever remains of them after that night," they seethe.

"I have sacrificed too much to just let the legacy I've built over the years to crumble just like that…" you whisper hoarsely, and you feel almost numb saying it. It’s something that you’ve repeated to yourself over and over again whenever you started to doubt your own choices.

"Including me and my dad," they accuse and you grimace.

"Yes… All the more reason to fight for it," you state, glancing back up to finally meet their eyes. It’s a very expensive price you’ve paid and because of that, you swore to make the most out of it--and you did. “Anything else?” you sigh, head hung in guilt.

“Did you regret it?” they ask next, voice trembling slightly from long-buried emotions bubbling up.

Another heavy question; one that you’ve asked yourself many times before, and deep down, you think you know the answer, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise--that you’re happy and you don’t really need them.

“Don’t lie,” Sasha adds, growling in warning, probably thinking your silence is you trying to lie your way out.

"No, it's nothing like that…" you quickly reassure them, making a placating gesture. "It's just… It's the question I've been asking myself for quite some time now," you sigh, leaning back into the armchair.

"It is?" they ask skeptically. The disbelief in their voice almost makes you bark out a laugh if only you’re not so stressed right now.

You take a deep breath before finally answering truthfully, fully opening yourself and baring your heart to them. "Yes… I think I do regret my decisions. I don't really know when the thought really started brewing in my head, but honestly… I have not been that satisfied with the state of my life right now. This is supposed to be my dream life, but I haven't been able to enjoy it for years now." Your voice quivers until it finally becomes a full-blown sobbing as you unleash the years-old buried regrets that you’ve never told anyone. "And I'm starting to think I might have ended up being happier right now if I had just taken Viktor's offer to marry me decades ago instead of pursuing… this."

You said the last word with no small hints of disgust. It’s true… Viktor was the only one who’s got you feeling that loved and cared for genuinely--not because of your career, status, fame, or wealth. To this day, you have never found someone like him.

It broke your heart to know that you’ve missed the chance to ever reconcile with him, to change your mind and go back to him now that he’s long gone. He exists now only in your memories of him and in your imagination of what a life with him and Sasha would be like if only the younger you were wiser.

Sasha blinks in surprise, totally not expecting this sudden heartfelt revelation and they seem lost on what to do, seeing you cry like this. You can practically feel the conflicting emotions battling inside of them like waves crashing against each other; one is bitterness and anger and the other is… pity and empathy?

They seem to be equally caught off guard as you are by the other feeling, and they whip their head to the side, glaring pointedly at the far wall instead of you crying. You try to stop the sobbing, but once the tears flow, it’s like a dam has been broken and you’re having a hard time composing yourself again.

But after a few long minutes, you finally calm down enough for them to hit you with another question, "Are you sorry for everything you did in the store too? How you tried to manipulate my feelings about you and how you humiliated me and my dad?" you ask accusingly.

"Of course I am. I'm sorry for trying to manipulate your emotions at that time… It's just—I didn't feel comfortable when people… disliked me, much less hate me. Not to mention when it came from my own flesh and blood. But I do realize now that it was the wrong thing to do and I'm sorry." You shake your head in shame.

What even possessed you to even attempt such a despicable thing to your own child? While it’s true that you’ve played with other people’s emotions ever since you were a kid yourself, including your own parents--as if you weren’t spoiled enough--but Viktor and your kid with him should be the exceptions.

"How about what you said about my dad? About him being delusional and implying that he was another one of your weird fans." They cross their arms.

"It has haunted me ever since your father's death…" you whisper quietly. "To think that those are the last words he heard me from me and they were ones that mocked him. I'd do anything to take them back; he didn't deserve it."

Oh, what you wouldn’t give to say something else to him. Maybe tell him that you still loved him, or beg him to reconnect, or maybe that you’ve changed your mind and that you wanted to be with him. The answer varies according to the nights you ruminate on it while lying in bed.

"You didn't deserve him," they hiss, but the words don’t really come out as biting as they must’ve wanted.

You can only nod silently in agreement; they’re totally right. "That's true…" You sniffle a little as you pull out a clean handkerchief and start dabbing on your wet cheeks carefully, so as not to mess up your makeup even more than you already do by crying.

For a couple of minutes, there is only silence between the two of you; Sasha is probably digesting all of the answers you have just given them, their brows are furrowed as they lean forward on their knees, clearly thinking hard. You’re just grateful for the little break so you have a bit more time to get your emotions back under control.

Viktor had always said that you’re beautiful no matter what kind of face you’re making. Still, you believe you’re an ugly crier at the very least and Viktor just didn’t want to say that to your face. Your breath hitches a bit as more tears flow from just thinking about him. You really miss him a lot.

You almost don’t notice Sasha scooting over to the edge of the armchair even more, staring at you intensely, their grey eyes filled with so many conflicting emotions you can literally feel them wash over you.

"Sasha…?" you ask hesitantly as you glance up at them.

"Can I give you a hug?" they ask back, looking a bit confused.

You can only gape in surprise; you can’t believe what you’re listening to right now. But you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth and before they somehow snap into their senses and take back the offer, you quickly reply, "Yes, please. I'd love that." You stand up and they do the same, opening their arms wide. Without thinking twice, you step into their hug and hold them for what is probably the first time ever. Your little baby is now all grown up from the little kid you saw all those years ago and it seems like they take after Viktor’s height.

You bury your face on their chest and you start to sob again. This is something that you could have only dared to dream of; you never expect something like this would even happen, especially so soon. But yet, it is Sasha, the one you’ve hurt the most, who first offers it.

Gentle strokes and pats to your back comfort you, anchoring you back to the present and calming your pathetic sobs into merely hitched breaths. But at the same time, you feel like a big portion of the weight that has been weighing down on you has been lifted, now that you have had a proper talk with your child again. Moreover, you’re filled with hope that maybe it’s not too late for you to reconnect with them.

But for now, you just want to focus on enjoying this moment, carving it in your memory. It’s been such a long time since you’ve had hugs like this from people who actually care about you that you almost forgot what it feels like--how warm and safe it is. The last time you felt this way was in Viktor’s arms, back when he was still alive… back when the two of you were still together and happy.

Now, all you have left from that relationship is Sasha, and you promise you won’t make the same stupid mistake you’ve done. You won’t squander this second chance given to you.