Page 14 of Tainted Empire
My heart hammers against my ribcage as I watch her, so real and yet so untouchable behind the screen. God, she looks beautiful, even through the grainy footage as I fast forward to the footage from our bedroom. She’s there, moving gracefully around the room we once shared.
Then she stops by our closet. I watch, breath caught in my throat, as she runs her hand over my shirts hanging in the closet. There’s a tenderness in her touch, a familiarity and longing that sends a jolt through me. She pauses, her fingers lingering on the fabric, and then she does something that completely undoes me.
She smiles, and it’s like a fucking dagger to my heart. It’s a smile that used to be mine, that I used to wake up to every morning. And now, it’s a ghost on a screen, a reminder of everything I’ve lost. She’s right here, yet miles away.
Then, as if she knows I would be watching this, she looks directly up at the camera. Her eyes lock onto the lens, onto me and my breath hitches. It’s like she’s looking right at me, piercing through the distance and the pain that separates us. She mouths something, and it takes a second for my brain to register the words.
“I miss you.” Her hand moves to her chest, right over her heart.
“Fuck,” I whisper, the word barely escaping my lips.
The room spins around me, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of the gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be. This woman, the one I drove away with my rage and my madness, still misses me. Still cares.
The phone slips from my hand and the image of her haunting smile and her silent words burned into my retinas. The realization that I’m still in her heart, that she came here, to our home, to feel close to me, is overwhelming.
She misses me. Despite everything, despite the pain I’ve caused, there’s still a thread connecting us.
I close my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands against them. “Goddammit, Malyshka,” I murmur, a mix of anguish and hope churning inside me.
This is more than just a video; it’s a sign, a message sent across the silence that has grown between us.
I’ve been a fucking fool, blinded by rage and haunted by past betrayals. And now, the woman I love, the woman I vowed to protect and cherish, is out there somewhere, hurting because of me.
I miss you. The admission is a lifeline, a flicker of hope in the darkness that I’ve been drowning in.
But it’s also a wake-up call. Gabriette’s still out there, carrying a piece of me with her, just as I carry a piece of her in my heart. It’s not too late. I have to make things right. I have to win her back, not just for me, but for us, for the love that we once had and can have again.
I’ll go to her performance. I’ll be there, in the shadows, supporting her, showing her in my own silent way that I’m still here, that I’m fighting for us.
Clutching my phone, the weight of what I’ve just seen and felt still heavy on me, I realize there’s something I need to do. While walking to our bedroom, I dial Lee’s number. She’s the link, the only bridge left between Gabriette and me.
She picks up after a couple of rings. “Mischa, everything okay?” Her tone is guarded, cautious – she’s always been perceptive about these things.
“I need you to pass a message to Gabriette,” I state, cutting straight to the point. There’s no room for beating around the bush, not with what’s at stake.
There’s a brief pause on the line. “Alright, I’m listening,” Lee replies, her voice betraying a hint of curiosity.
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. I need this message to convey everything I feel, everything I can’t say directly to Gabriette yet.
“Tell her... tell her I received both messages. The one she left in our room and the one in the envelope.”
“And?” Lee prompts, sensing there’s more.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I continue, feeling a lump form in my throat. “And that I feel the same.”
It’s cryptic, but it’s the most I can express without unraveling completely. It’s an acknowledgment of the invitation, of her presence in our bedroom, and a subtle admission of my own longing and regret.
“Is that all?” Lee asks, her voice softening.
“Yes, that’s all for now,” I confirm, knowing that these few words carry a depth of meaning that only Gabriette will fully understand.
Lee doesn’t question further. “Okay, Mischa. I’ll pass it along.”
After hanging up, I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, the room suddenly feeling too big, too empty.
As I sit there, surrounded by the ghosts of our past and the faint scent of her perfume, I cling to the hope that she will understand, that she will see the meaning behind my words.
No sooner had I hung up, my phone rang again. As the call connects and Lorenzo’s voice fills the line, I steel myself for whatever he’s about to divulge.