His Wife

22

I couldn't think about anything other than the words Eugene read from the letter. I stare out the little window in the plane. 

He knew where I was. He knew who I was with, but he wanted me to keep being kidnapped. I wasn't... useful to him. That's what he had said, basically. 

I was never someone that he loved, he never thought of me as his wife, his soulmate, or whatever, I was just a pawn and when I was useful, he would use me and when I wasn't... well, he wouldn't.

"Darling. Are you alright? You've been awfully quiet." Misha asked, reaching over and taking my hand.

I sighed. "I'm fantastic."

"Well, when you want to quit lying, I'll be glad to listen." 

"How about you tell me why we're leaving to Russia."

He grinned and then leaned in and whispered, "How about no."

He instead just put his head on my shoulder and mumbled, "I will sleep."

Even in my deep state of depression, I couldn't help but laugh at his childish self. I ruffled his hair and then turned back to the window.

Finally, the plane landed and we went out into the streets of... Moscow. This had been one place I was dying to visit for years now. We had a simple hotel checked out towards the outside of the city, and so we didn't get a chance to walk through the Red Square, but I was still amazed at the beauty and at the Russianess of it all. All of my culture, the roots of my culture and life were here, and I was finally visiting it. 

"Mishka, you and Maria are staying in one room. Go get settled in." Stephan ordered and threw us a key.

Misha winked at me and then grabbed my hand in one hand, and my suitcase in the other, and we rushed up the stairs. He quickly unlocked the door and then threw himself on the bed as soon as he walked in, the suitcases falling at his feet.

I laughed. "Misha, you are acting like a little child."

He jumped up on the bed a few times. "I love this place. Back when we lived here, we would stay here all the time. I love this hotel."

I leaned against the door and watched him make 'snow angel's' on the bed.

"Come here. You've got to experience the softness and wonderfulness of these beds." He reached out a hand and I almost instantly grabbed it. 

He pulled me up on the bed and jumped, making me jump with him.

I couldn't help but let out a full, happy laugh. Oh, this was the most childish thing I had ever done. I don't even think I did this as a little kid. 

Misha suddenly tripped over the pillow and came crashing down. Since he was still holding my hands, I came crashing down on top of him.

My breath caught in my throat and I stared at him, neither of us moving. His eyes were also buried deep into mine. 

I allowed my eyes to look over his face, noticing little wrinkles around his eyes from laughing so much, and a tiny scar at the edge of his lips. 

Some weird spirit must have been controlling my body because before I knew it, I had reached with my fingertips and gently brushed over the little scar. I felt Misha's fingers lightly brush away a strand of my hair, and then his hand came around the side of my face. His fingers spread out into my hair, and he gently pulled me closer to him.

I knew what would happen if something didn't interrupt us, and I was very terrified of it. 

So I did the most natural thing I could think of and laughed. Misha, not at all surprised at my interruption, laughed as well. I buried my face in his neck and wrapped my arms around him, and he did the same.