Page 57 of The Pakhan's Sold Bride

“Ulyana?” I shout, excited to see her. “What are you doing here?”

I’m already rushing down the stairs, and she grins, opening her arms to hug me as I get to the bottom.

It’s strange how someone can be an instant friend. No weirdness, no awkward stages, just a true, relaxed, caring friend. That’s how I feel about Ulyana. And she makes me believe she feels the same about me.

“I thought I would visit while Nestor was out. I wanted to say hi, but if he sees me, I’m going to get another lecture for quitting uni.”

“You quit?” I say, horrified.

“It was soboring,” she huffs, pouting her lip out. “I can’t imagine why in the world I thought I’d want to study business rubbish. I think I should start a new course next year—something in fashion.”

She pulls me towards the sofa and flops down into it.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask before I sit down, too.

“Oh, the lady of the house, yes please. Gin.”

I pour two blue gins, remembering that she likes them.

I set it down on the table next to her and then sit with my leg close to hers. She turns to face me and rolls her eyes dramatically. “Nestor is being so annoying about the uni thing.”

“He’s probably just worried about your future,” I shrug, but then realize with the amount of money in her family, she has nothing to worry about.

“He just doesn’t want me to have regrets later. But I know it’s not for me.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“I don’t think you understand just how much of a protective older brother he can be.” She laughs, sipping her drink. “How are things going between you guys?”

“It’s getting better. I’m learning things—sometimes it’s difficult for me to process everything.” I bite my lip.

“You mean—with what he does for a living?”

“Yes, that.”

“For us, it’s normal. Nestor and I were born into this life. Our father died when we were very young, and Nestor was forced to step up way before he should have. He was practically a kid still. But you know, he never complained. Not once. And every time he spoke about things, he was more concerned about whether Mom and I were okay, not himself. My brother is an incredibly special person. He deserves the world. I don’t know what we would have done without him.” She smiles, staring off into the distance, then suddenly turns towards me with a mischievous grin. “Have you guys, um—are you guys trying to have a baby?” she asks so bluntly, I choke on the sip I’ve just taken and spit it back into the glass.

Ulyana cracks up laughing. “That is definitely a yes.” She winks at me. “Say no more. I just want to be an aunt.”

“I’m still coming to terms with being married, it’s a whole different step to start wanting babies,” I laugh.

“I think Nestor will make an excellent father, don’t you?” She stretches her legs out, resting them on the coffee table. Ulyana is beautiful. She has this calm confidence that radiates through her. I’ve always wanted a best friend.

But my entire life was spent in the shadow of my mom’s illness. She has been sick for years. The cancer came back twice. The third time it took her. I spent my childhood taking care of her. And I am grateful that I had that time with her, but it stopped me from ever being able to make any real friends.

And then on top of that, my father became absent, off gambling, or manipulating me into believing another one of his lies. I’ve never had a strong sense of family. Of safety. And I’ve never had a real friend, not like Ulyana. One where I can talk about anything and not feel judged. Where she makes me feel welcome and comfortable.

“I think he’d make a great father,” I agree, considering how gentle he is with me. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to be a mother, but I think he would make an amazing dad. So much better than my father. Not that it’s comparable.

Ulyana chats about the new course she was looking at for fashion design, but then she flips to talking about the gorgeous dress she found at the mall a few days ago. Then she chats about her mom and her life and her brother and asks me a ton of questions about my life.

It’s an incredible feeling not to be lonely anymore. And this is the first time I’ve really processed the fact that since meeting Nestor, by force, I have not felt alone.

I’m a bit tipsy when Ulyana leaves, wanting to sneak away before Nestor gets home. I tease her about being scared of the lecture, and she scrunches her nose and says, “He’s scary when he gets bossy.”

I chuckle; I’ve seen his bossy side. It’s not scary to me. It does other things to me.

My cheeks flush with heat at the thought, but luckily, Ulyana is already waving goodbye as she hurries down the steps to where her driver is waiting.

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