Between Discomfort and Relief

Between Discomfort and Relief
Dominic’s Point of View

I had already set foot on the second step of the airplane staircase when I felt it. It wasn’t a specific sound, nor a call. It was… instinct. Something pulled my attention like an invisible thread tugging at the back of my neck, and I turned my head over my shoulder before I even had a chance to think about it, and then I saw her.

Maggie

Maggie standing next to Beckham, and Jamie was sitting on his lap, his head slumped against his shoulder, completely fast asleep, while Beckham pushed a suitcase with his other hand. I furrowed my brow, my eyes narrowing slightly, as if this could be some kind of illusion created by exhaustion or my own messed-up mind. She couldn’t be there; I’d spoken to her last night, I’d said goodbye to my son, and in my mind, we’d both said everything there was to say… at least for the moment.

But she was there. She was real, coming toward me.

I stepped down the staircase I’d climbed, my shoes touching the airport floor again, and turned my body to face her fully.

“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t correct it.

When she stopped in front of me, Beckham and Jamie stayed a step back, as if this were something between the two of us… which, in fact, it was.

“I’m going to Russia with you.” She said that looking directly into my eyes, without looking away, without hesitation.

It could have been a very bad joke, but there was no humor in it at all. On the contrary. Her face was downcast, pale… and the dark circles under her eyes betrayed a whole night without sleep.

“What do you mean, you’re going to Russia with me?”

I took a step closer, trying to understand what was happening.

“That’s exactly it. Jamie and I are coming back with you.” She spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if that weren’t completely absurd.

“Maggie, what’s this all about? You don’t want to go back to Russia.”

Something was wrong, very wrong. Between the moment I left her apartment and that morning… something had changed, and it wasn’t a small thing if she was wanting to go back to Russia.

“I don’t want to give you an explanation.” She lifted her chin slightly, in a defensive posture I knew well. “All you need to know is that I’ve decided to go back with you. Isn’t that enough? Or are you going to leave your children and me here?”

My gaze fell automatically to her belly, then rose to her shoulder and swept past her until it found Jamie, sleeping peacefully in Beckham’s lap. A twinge shot through my chest and down into my stomach. It was stupid, completely stupid, but I felt it. Seeing my son in another man’s arms… even though I knew there was nothing wrong with it… bothered me in a primal way.

Possessive.

I held Maggie’s gaze for another second, trying to wring some truth out of her. I couldn’t, so I let out a low sigh and walked past her without saying another word, heading straight for Beckham.

Without asking, I took Jamie from his arms. My son automatically snuggled against me, his face burying itself in my neck, his body relaxing even more. He always knew where he belonged. I held him closer to my chest before speaking, low enough that only Beckham could hear.

“Why is she here?”

“You’ll have to ask her. I’m just the sidekick.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Is Marco behind this?”

Beckham held my gaze without hesitation.

“Marco’s a meddler. He has a hand in everything that involves something he cares about. She and the boy are his soft spot. What do you think?”

I stared at him for a moment. There was something to it; he wasn’t just saying that for the sake of it. I nodded slightly, taking in the information, before taking a step back. With Jamie in one arm, I grabbed the suitcase with my other hand and turned toward the plane.

“Can you still fly?” I asked, bluntly, looking at Maggie.

“Yes, I can. Maybe in a few weeks I won’t be able to anymore, but today I still can.”

I nodded.

“I hope you don’t regret what you’re doing.” My voice came out lower this time.

“I won’t.” She replied without hesitation and then walked past me.

She climbed the steps without looking back. I followed right behind her, still holding Jamie in my arms, feeling everything settle inside me in a strange way. Beckham handed me her suitcase at the top of the stairs before walking away. Once everyone was on board, I sat down in the seat across from the row where Maggie was sitting. The aisle separated us. On purpose, I wanted her to have space, comfort, and two seats if she needed them.

The doors closed with a sharp click. Soon after, the pilot’s voice echoed through the system, announcing takeoff in a few seconds and asking everyone to fasten their seatbelts. I fastened my belt with one hand, still holding Jamie with the other.

I looked at him, sleeping peacefully. As if the world weren’t a complete mess all around him. As if nothing could touch him while he was there. Then my eyes went to Maggie on the other side. The plane began to move, picking up speed on the runway. She was looking straight ahead, staring at some invisible point, but she wasn’t really there. I knew that look.

Empty.

Distant.

As if her mind were trapped somewhere far away from that plane.

I didn’t know what Marco’s move had been, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty. The decision to return to Russia… hadn’t been hers. She didn’t want to be there.

It would be an eighteen-hour flight. Long and drawn-out, and every minute seemed to stretch even further inside that enclosed plane, where the air was controlled, the space limited, and the thoughts… uncontrollable. Maggie spent much of the time uncomfortable. I could tell even when I wasn’t looking directly at her. The baby was clearly not happy with so many hours of sitting, and that was reflected in her every little movement. Sometimes she would get up and walk slowly down the narrow aisle, one hand always resting on the side of the seats to keep her balance; other times, she would return to her seat, restless, shifting positions, trying to find some relief that never truly came.

She would put her legs up, then down, then cross and uncross them. Still, nothing seemed to work. As the hours passed, her feet began to swell noticeably, and I could see, even from a distance, how much it bothered her. She barely ate either, refusing most of what was served, and little by little, it became clear that she was completely miserable on that flight.

Jamie, on the other hand… was perfect. Calm and happy. As if he were completely oblivious to everything. He slept, ate without complaining, jumped onto my lap with that energy only he had, chuckling softly, babbling things that only made sense to him, and then stayed in his car seat playing with his stuffed animals, completely entertained.

I took care of him the whole time, which was good because the conversation between Maggie and me was almost nonexistent—and it wasn’t for lack of things to say. It was exactly the opposite; there was too much to say. But I didn’t want to pressure her; she was already tense enough, and any issue I needed to discuss with her… wasn’t a light one, so I did what needed to be done.

I focused on my son and on work. I spent part of the flight mentally reviewing everything I needed to know about the Japanese. The people I would meet, the terms of the meeting, the risks, the advantages. If this went well, I would secure an extremely solid foundation for the Bratva both financially and in terms of power, and I couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

At some point during the flight, after changing Jamie and putting him back to sleep, I went to the bathroom to dispose of the diaper. When I returned, I stopped in the middle of the aisle. Exhaustion was already weighing on me; I hadn’t slept a wink. We must have been flying for over fifteen hours, and there were still three… maybe four hours left before we landed.

I looked in her direction; Maggie was awake. Her eyes were fixed on the screen in front of her, where some movie was playing silently to me, but she wasn’t watching it. I knew that. Her gaze remained vacant. Her hand rested on her belly, sliding slowly, in an almost automatic gesture… as if that were the only thing anchoring her there. At least, she seemed to have found a position that didn’t bother her as much.

I took a few steps toward her.

“How are you feeling?” I ventured to ask, keeping my voice low because of the dim light on the plane.

She turned her face, as if only then registering my presence.

“Hmmm… fine.” She shrugged.

“You don’t look fine. You haven’t slept… or eaten.”

She let out a small sigh through her nose.

“Don’t worry. Your son is fine. A few hours without eating won’t hurt him.” Her voice was bitter and sharp.

She really wasn’t in a good mood. I looked her up and down; her feet were propped up on the seat, and she was moving her fingers slowly… they looked like little balls pressed inside something even bigger.

Swollen.

I seriously doubted she’d be able to stand for long in that condition.

I let out a low sigh, glanced quickly behind me to make sure Jamie was still sleeping soundly, then moved closer. Without asking permission, I grabbed both her feet. She stirred immediately, letting out a little cry of surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?” Her eyes wide, she tried to pull her feet back.

But in that state… she didn’t have much mobility. I held on tight, carefully lifting her legs and sitting down in the armchair in front of her, bringing her feet onto my lap.

“Let go, Dominic! They look awful. I don’t want you looking at them.” She tried to kick, protesting.

I didn’t even react.

“Be quiet, Maggie.” My voice came out firm.

Leaving no room for argument, I began to massage. She resisted for a few seconds, her body still tense, her breath held, until a small sound escaped her lips. A low moan, almost involuntary. I looked up for a second… and smiled slightly, then stopped.

“If I can ease your discomfort in any way, I will.” I said, watching her reaction.

She exhaled slowly.

“God… that feels good.” Her voice no longer had the same sharp tone; it was softer and more weary.

I resumed massaging with calm, firm pressure. Pressing my fingers, one by one, then the sole of her foot, moving up slowly, finding the points of tension. Without rushing, and without saying another word, just doing what needed to be done. I remained silent for a long moment, focused only on the repetitive movement of my hands on Maggie’s feet, feeling the tension gradually ease beneath my fingers. Every now and then, she let out a sigh or a low moan, and that, strangely, anchored me.

After a while, when I noticed her breathing had steadied and her body was less rigid, I decided to break the silence that had grown too heavy between us.

“Are you going to tell me why you decided at the last minute to come to Russia with me?”

She didn’t even look at me.

“No.” The answer came low, almost a whisper, but firm enough to irritate me.

I lifted my face, seeking her eyes, and caught her looking away. That only made things worse. I let out a short sigh and brought one of my hands to her chin, holding it firmly and pulling her back toward me. Not brutally, but leaving her no room to escape.

“What did Marco threaten you with to make you agree to come back?” I cut straight to the chase. She tried to turn her face away again, but I wouldn’t let her. I leaned forward, invading her space, closing whatever distance still existed between us. “You betrayed me, Maggie. You conspired with my enemy to deceive me.” My voice came out low, controlled, but heavy. “Keeping secrets from me means you’re still betraying me.”

“I’m not betraying you,” she replied immediately, her voice firm, almost offended.

I leaned in a little closer, my eyes locked on hers.

“Are you sure you aren’t?” I asked, without softening my tone. “Marco has been using you to manipulate me, and he’ll want to keep doing that, even now that I know the truth. If you do what he tells you and hide your relationship from me… to me, that’s betrayal, Maggie.” I paused briefly, letting the weight of my words sink in. “I don’t forgive traitors.”

She stared at me for a second, in silence, as if weighing every word, every reaction, then blinked, easing the tension slightly.

“I don’t know why he wants me there,” she said finally, more quietly. She used her hands to push herself back in the armchair and settle in better. “He just said he can control the situation better with me around. And… that he’s afraid you won’t keep your word about letting Massimo go.” I slowly released her chin and leaned back, resuming the massage as if that were the only thing that still made sense there. “Dominic, are you really going to do that?” she asked after a few seconds. “Let Massimo out of jail?”

I looked up again, meeting her gaze.

“I have to pay a debt.” My voice came out firm, without hesitation. “And even if I wanted to get revenge on Marco for using his plan against me, for manipulating everything… if I wanted to defeat Vladimir and the old guard, I needed his men in any scenario.” I paused for a moment. “I’d be in his debt either way.”

She was silent for a moment, taking it all in.

“Do you think he’ll use me in some way to get to you?”

I ignored the question.

“What did he tell you to get on that plane?”

She let out a small sigh, as if she were already tired of resisting.

“He said that if I didn’t come, he’d kidnap Jamie again.” Her voice faltered for a second, but she continued. “And he’d drag me back to Russia anyway. Dominic… he’s always controlled my life.”

My jaw clenched instantly; I felt my teeth grind as anger rose like a slow, hot poison. Marco DeGrassi had crossed every possible line, and I was going to make him pay for every single one.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, suspicious of my silence.

I exhaled through my nose, humorless.

“I’m thinking you were right,” I replied. “I went easy on you.” I shook my head slightly. “I was afraid. Afraid you’d see me cross some line… and run away.” I let out a short, dry snort. “You did it anyway.” I looked up at her, my expression completely cold now. “So there’s no reason to go easy on you anymore, or to hide who I am.” My voice came out calm, almost too controlled. “The people who were supposed to be loyal to me thought betraying me was an option, and my enemies felt comfortable enough to manipulate me.” I tilted my head slightly. “I can’t keep letting that happen. Can I?”

I saw the exact moment fear flashed through her eyes. A subtle but undeniable flicker, and for the first time… I didn’t care. Because losing someone who was no longer mine… wasn’t really losing.

Three hours later, the plane finally landed; we cut through Moscow in half an hour to the Volkov mansion, and then we were back home. I got out first, feeling the cold air hit my face as soon as I stepped out, then walked quickly to the covered area of the mansion’s entrance, shielding Jamie’s body with mine, then setting her down there before going back to help Maggie. She was already opening the car door when I approached. I held out my hand, and she took it, stepping down carefully; I noticed the effort in her movement, the weight of her belly, the exhaustion etched all over her body.

We walked together to the entrance; she took Jamie’s hand to enter the house together, and I went ahead, opening the front door.

I went in first and held it open for her.

“Welcome back.”

I watched as her eyes scanned the hall. The spacious, cold, imposing space… exactly as it had always been. She let out a sigh, almost imperceptible. Jamie, on the other hand, squeezed her hand and hopped up and down, excited by something only he seemed to understand. Maybe, to him… this was home.

“I didn’t think I’d be back,” she murmured.

I gave a slight nod.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here again either.” My voice came out lower. “The difference is… I was devastated by it.”

She opened her mouth, probably to reply, but didn’t have time.

“Dominic, you’re back! Welcome…” My mother’s voice cut through the room… and trailed off mid-sentence. I saw the exact moment she stopped, her eyes fixed on Maggie, widening, shock taking over every feature of her face. “W-what is… w-what is that woman doing here?”

I had never seen my mother stutter.

Never.

“This is her home,” I replied, coldly, staring her straight in the eye. “Where she belongs.”

I felt disgust rise just looking at her.

“D-Dominic…” She finally looked away from Maggie and stared at me.

I tilted my head slightly, making no effort to hide my contempt.

“Quite different from what you thought, isn’t it, Mom?”

“Dominic, I don’t know what that woman said, but…”

“I want you out of my house. Today.” I interrupted, without raising my voice, but letting each word fall like an absolute command.

She flinched.

“What?”

“Maggie isn’t going to stay in the same house as you, and I’m not going to stay away from my children.” I took a step back, already turning my back on her. “So I want you out. As soon as possible.”

I started up the stairs. I needed a shower, some silence, and a few hours without thinking.

“Dominic… I’m your mother.”

I stopped halfway up, my hand gripping the banister hard enough to tense the muscles in my arm.

“You’re a traitor.” I didn’t look back. “I don’t grow plants that can poison me. I don’t raise animals that can attack me.” My voice came out low, but hard as steel. “And I certainly don’t keep people who betray me close to me.” I started climbing again. “I don’t want to see you here anymore. Get out of my house… before I throw you out myself.”

I kept going without stopping, then I heard Maggie and Jamie’s footsteps behind me, and… I felt something close to relief. A strange, twisted kind, but still… relief.