Chapter 126 Nikolai
The light came slowly. First just as brightness behind my eyelids. Then shapes. Then colors.
I tried to focus. Tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
A white ceiling.
I blinked. Once. My eyelids felt heavy. Like they had been closed for years.
"Mama! Mama, he is waking up!"
The little girl screamed.
Footsteps rushed into the room.
"Hello?" The older woman called. "Can you hear me?"
I tried to speak but my throat was dry. No sound came out.
"Get him water," she ordered.
A moment later, I felt something press against my lips. Cool liquid. I drank it eagerly.
"Easy," the woman said.
I finished drinking and turned my head to look at her.
She was middle aged. Beside her stood a man. He was tall and strong looking. Her husband, I assumed.
And between them was a little girl I assumed to be Katya. She had dark hair.
"You are awake," she whispered. "You are really awake."
I nodded. It was all I could manage.
"I will get the doctor," the man said. He left quickly.
Marina sat down beside the bed. "Do you remember anything? What happened to you?"
I looked at her. At this woman who had saved my life.
I could tell her the truth. Tell her about who I was.
But what good would that do? It would only put them in danger. It was better to let Nikolai Markov stay dead.
"I do not remember anything." I said. My voice was hoarse.
Marina's eyes widened. "Nothing? Not even your name?"
"No," I lied. "Everything before the water is... blank."
Katya moved closer. "You do not remember who you are?"
I shook my head. "I am sorry."
"Do not apologize," Marina said quickly. "The doctor said this might happen. Trauma can cause memory loss. It might come back. It might not."
The door opened. The doctor walked in. Same professional voice I remembered from the coma.
"Well," he said. "This is a pleasant surprise. How are you feeling?"
"Weak," I admitted.
"That is an improvement," the doctor said. He began examining me. Checking my eyes. My pulse. My wounds.
"Can you tell me what you remember?" he asked.
"Nothing," I repeated the lie. "Just drowning in the water. And then waking up here."
The doctor frowned. "No memories at all? Not even fragments?"
"No."
He was quiet for a moment. "This could be temporary," he said finally. "Or it could be permanent. The mind has ways of protecting itself from trauma. Sometimes it locks away memories that are too painful."
"So he might never remember?" Marina asked.
"Possibly," the doctor admitted. "But for now, let him rest. His body is still healing. Memory or no memory, he needs time."
They left me alone after that. Except for Katya. She stayed. Sitting in the chair beside my bed.
"I am glad you are awake," she said. "I was worried you would sleep forever."
"Thank you," I said. "For saving me."
She smiled. "You are welcome. Do you really not remember anything?"
I looked at this child. And I lied to her face.
"No," I said. "Nothing."
"That must be scary," Katya said.
"Yes," I agreed. That part was not a lie. It was terrifying. Not knowing who I was. Or who I wanted to be.
"You can stay here with us until you remember or figure out what you want to do."
"I do not want to be a burden," I said.
"You are not a burden," Katya insisted. "You are a person who needs help. And we help people. That is what good people do."
Good people. The words hit harder than they should have.
I was not a good person. I had killed. Stolen. Destroyed. I had locked Anya in a cage. I had chosen power over love. I did not deserve this child's kindness.
But I needed it. Desperately.
"Thank you," I said again.
Days passed. I grew stronger. Learned to walk again. To eat. To function. Marina and her husband, Viktor, treated me like family. Fed me. Clothed me. And asked nothing in return.
But I knew I could not stay forever.
Eventually, I would have to leave.
One day, Viktor sat down with me. His face was serious.
"We need to talk," he said.
"About what?"
"About what happens next," Viktor said. "You are healing well. The doctor says in a few weeks you will be fully recovered."
"And then I leave," I said. "I understand. You have done enough for me already."
"That is not what I meant," Viktor said. "You can stay as long as you need. But I am worried about something."
"What?"
"Someone tried to kill you, isn't it?" Viktor said. "Someone tied you up and threw you in the ocean."
"I do not remember who it was," I reminded him.
"I know," Viktor said. "But they might remember you. If word gets out that you survived, they could come back."
He was right. If Volkov learned I was alive, he would send men and would kill everyone who helped me.
"What do you suggest?" I asked.
"A new identity," Viktor said. "We have connections. People who can help with that sort of thing."
"Why would you do that for me?"
"Because Katya asked me to," Viktor said simply. "And I cannot say no to my daughter."
"I will work," I said. "I will not be a burden. Whatever you need. I will do it."
"I own a fishing company," Viktor said. "It's small. But profitable. I could use another pair of hands. If you are willing."
"I am willing," I said immediately. "More than willing."
"Good," Viktor said. "Then it is settled. You work for me. We get you new papers. And you start over."
"What name should I use?" I asked.
Viktor thought for a moment. "What about Alexei? Alexei Petrov?"
I flinched. The name was too close. Too familiar.
"Something else," I said. "Please."
"Alright," Viktor said. "What about Ivan? Ivan Sokolov?"
Sokolov. Katya's last name. My dead sister's name.
It felt right somehow.
"Ivan Sokolov," I repeated. "Yes. I like that."
"Then Ivan Sokolov you are," Viktor said. He stood and extended his hand. "Welcome to the family, Ivan."
I shook his hand. And I felt something I had not felt in months.
Hope.
Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could leave Nikolai Markov behind. Leave the violence and the empire and the pain.
Maybe I could be someone better.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
I thought about Anya. Wondered if she was still alive. If Volkov had hurt her. If she thought about me.
I hoped she was okay.
But I would never know. Because Nikolai Markov was dead. And Ivan Sokolov could never go looking for her.
It was better this way.
For both of us.
I closed my eyes. And for the first time since the warehouse, I slept without seeing Mikhail's body. Without hearing Anya's screams.
I slept peacefully.
Like a man with no past. And maybe, if I was lucky, a future.
Weeks passed. I worked on Viktor's fishing boats. Learned the trade. Earned my keep.
The family accepted me and treated me like I belonged.
Katya talked to me every day. Told me stories. Made me laugh. Reminded me that there was good in the world.
And slowly, I started to believe it. That I could be happy again.
One evening, Marina called me into the kitchen.
"Your new papers arrived," she said. She handed me a folder.
Inside was everything. Passport. Identification card. Birth certificate. All under the name Ivan Sokolov.
"This is it," I said quietly. "I am officially someone new."
"How does it feel?" Marina asked.
"Strange," I admitted. "But good. Like a weight has been lifted."
"Good," Marina said, smiling.
I looked at the papers. At the name that was not mine. At the life I was stealing.
And I made a promise to myself. I would be better. "Thank you," I said to Marina. "For everything. For saving me. For giving me this chance."
"You are family now," Marina said simply. "This is what family does."
Family. The word settled in my chest.
I had lost my family. Mikhail. Katya. Even Anya, in a way.
But maybe I had found a new one.
That night, I went to my room, sat on the bed and held the papers in my hands.
Ivan Sokolov. A fisherman.
This was who I would be now.
And Nikolai Markov? He was dead. Gone forever.
Or so I thought.
Because the next morning, everything changed.