27

SASHA The sound of the howling wind reverberates around me, but it doesn’t feel cold. In fact, it’s warm. So warm that I bury my face in the pillow and moan softly at the welcoming embrace. In an instant, it feels as if I’m back to happier times in my life. Times when Mama would hug me to sleep, Papa would kiss my forehead, and Anton would tease me about being a baby. Times I took for granted, oblivious to the bleak reality fate had prepared for me. So I burrow further into the warmness of the pillow, inhaling deeply and engraving every detail to memory. Then I pause when I notice something hard against my head. In fact, the firm surface is glued to my whole body. A pillow isn’t supposed to feel like steel. Slowly, I open my eyes. The moment I understand the situation, a wordless gasp spills from my lips. Turns out, the pillow isn’t a pillow, after all, and I am, in fact, cocooned in Kirill’s arms. I tilt my chin up to catch a glimpse of his sleeping face. The hard lines of his jaw are