Chapter 310 Chapter 311

Chapter 310 Chapter 311
Note: WELCOME TO YET ANOTHER BACKSTORY,PROBABLY THE LAST AND THATS NIKOLAI’S STORY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT,SWEET COMMENTS AND STICKING AROUND.I LOVE YOU ALLLLLLLL!!!! Muahhhhh 

NIKOLAI’s BACKSTORY 

Chapter 311

The Last Normal Night

Jolene by Dolly was playing in the background while The smell of roasted lamb, garlic, and fresh rosemary filled our warm, spacious dining room in the quiet suburbs of Saint Petersburg.

The heavy crystal chandelier above the long oak table cast a soft, golden glow across the polished silverware, expensive red wine glasses, and neat rows of porcelain plates. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, a light, peaceful snowfall was beginning to drift down over the frozen garden, turning the dark night into a calm winter landscape.

For our family, nights like this were extraordinarily rare.

My father, Viktor Sokolov, was a top NASA astronaut and elite aerospace commander whose classified orbital assignments kept him locked away in remote space stations and launch facilities for months at a time. My mother, Juliana, was a soft-spoken former concert pianist whose grace and quiet warmth held our house together whenever he was away off planet. And then there was my identical twin brother, Nicholas, sitting directly across from me at the dinner table.

"Pass the roast, Nikolai," Nicholas said, waving his fork at me with a playful smirk on his handsome face. "Unless you plan on calculating the exact orbital trajectory of every meat slice before letting anyone else eat."

I let out a low, breathless chuckle, passing the heavy silver platter across the table to him. "Some of us actually appreciate precision, Nicholas. You should try it sometime. It might help you pass your medical biochemistry exams."

"Hey!" Nicholas gasped out dramatically, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I am going to be a brilliant surgeon, my dear brother. Surgeons do not care about rocket propulsion or space math formulas. We care about saving lives with our bare hands."

"Surgeons need to know exact chemical dosages so they do not accidentally kill their patients," I replied smoothly, taking a slow sip of dark red wine. "So yes, the math actually matters."

My mother let out a soft, melodious laugh, setting her wine glass down on the white linen tablecloth. Her warm, dark eyes sparkled as she looked back and forth between her two sons.

"Please, boys," she begged gently, her voice carrying that sweet, soothing rhythm I had loved my entire life. "Can we have just one dinner without you two competing over who has the bigger brain? Viktor, tell your sons to behave."

My father sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders squared inside a sharp, dark suit. He looked at my mother with deep, unyielding devotion in his eyes before turning his stern, proud gaze toward Nicholas and me.

"Your brother is right, Nicholas," my father said, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet room. "Precision is the foundation of survival, whether you are in a surgical room or sitting inside a spacecraft capsule. A man who controls the details controls the world." He turned his eyes directly toward me, giving me a small, approving nod. "Nikolai understands this. That is why his technical flight simulations and aerospace code are already superior to men twice his age."

A brief, sharp shadow passed over Nicholas’s face. It was so fast that most people would have missed it entirely, but I saw it. I saw the way his jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, the subtle way his fingers clenched around his fork. Nicholas was a brilliant medical student, but he always hated the way our father looked at me. To our father, I was the heir to his technical, spacefaring mind, while Nicholas was always just the younger twin trying to catch up.

Nicholas quickly masked his reaction with an easy, charming smile, leaning back in his chair. "Well, precision is fine for astronauts and machines, Father. But human beings are emotional creatures. That is why people like me more."

"People like you more because you lie to them with a smile, Nicholas," I teased, kicking his foot lightly under the table.

"It is called charm, Nikolai," Nicholas retorted with a sharp wink. "You should buy some. It might help you get a girlfriend before we turn thirty."

My mother laughed again, shaking her head as she picked up her fork. "You two are impossible. Absolutely impossible."

The warmth in the room was absolute. It felt like an anchor, a solid wall protecting our home from the cold winter world outside. For twenty-two years, this was our life. Safe, privileged, and complete.

Suddenly, a harsh, high-pitched ringing shattered the comfortable silence.

My father’s encrypted NASA satellite comm-link sat on the polished sideboard behind his chair. It was a heavy, dark device that rarely rang unless a critical, emergency space mission was activated or a catastrophic event occurred in orbit.

The entire dining room went dead silent.

My mother’s smile instantly vanished, her pale hands freezing over her plate. Nicholas straightened his back, his playful demeanor disappearing in a heartbeat. I set my wine glass down, my eyes locking onto the flashing red light on top of the phone.

My father stood up slowly, pushing his heavy oak chair back with a dull scrape against the hardwood floor. He walked over to the sideboard, picking up the black receiver and pressing it to his ear.

"Commander Sokolov," he answered in a stern, flat tone.

He listened quietly. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

As the voice on the other end spoke, I watched the color drain completely from my father’s face. The proud, unshakeable astronaut who had faced the cold vacuum of space without showing fear in his entire life suddenly looked pale, hollow, and visibly shaken. His fingers tightened around the heavy phone so hard that his knuckles turned bone white.

"Are you certain?" my father asked softly, his deep voice trembling slightly.

Another brief pause. The muffled sound of a panicked flight director spilled through the earpiece, accompanied by the faint, terrifying shrieks of mission control sirens ringing in the background.

"Prepare the emergency launch payload," my father commanded, his voice dropping into a tight, urgent whisper. "Do not let anyone leak this to the press. I am coming to the launch base right now."

He slammed the phone down onto the cradle, turning around to face us. The warm, peaceful atmosphere of the dining room was instantly replaced by a thick, suffocation-level panic.

"Viktor?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she stood up from her chair. "What is happening? What was that?"

"Pack your bags," my father ordered, his eyes darting between Nicholas and me with raw, intense urgency. "Juliana, take the boys and go straight to the secure estate in the countryside. Do not use the primary highways. Do not call anyone."

"Father, what is going on?" I asked, stepping forward as my tactical instincts flared to life. "Has there been a failure on the orbital station? Is this a classified launch?"

My father grabbed my broad shoulders, his hands shaking as he looked directly into my eyes. "Nikolai, listen to me very carefully. I am being deployed on a secret emergency space mission. If I do not contact you within three hours of touchdown, you are the man of this house. Do you understand me? You take care of your mother and your brother. You trust no one. Not the government, not my agency associates, no one."

"Father!" Nicholas shouted, stepping up beside me. "We can come with you to the launch facility! I have medical training, Nikolai has technical skills!"

"No!" my father roared, his dark eyes wide with terrifying intensity. "You stay with your mother! Keep your head down and wait for my signal!"

Without another word, my father turned on his heel, grabbed his heavy dark coat from the hallway rack, and slammed the front door behind him. The cold winter wind howled into the grand foyer for a brief second before the lock clicked shut.

We stood frozen in the middle of the dining room.

Thirty minutes passed in agonizing, heavy silence. My mother paced back and forth near the roaring fireplace, her hands clutching her rosary beads as she prayed under her breath. Nicholas sat on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly at the dark screen of his smartphone, constantly hitting the refresh button on private space feeds.

I stood near the window, my eyes fixed on the night sky, my mind running through every possible catastrophe that could occur during an unannounced emergency launch.

By two in the morning, three full hours had passed. Zero calls. Zero messages. Complete silence.

"I am calling him," Nicholas said, his voice tight as he pulled his phone to his ear and dialed our father’s direct NASA comm line.

He listened for several seconds, his brow furrowing in frustration. "It is going straight to voicemail. His satellite link is completely offline."

"Let me try the command center's encrypted link," I said, stepping over to my laptop on the study desk. My fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing three layers of security to access the private network feed of his mission wing.

The screen flashed red.

SIGNAL TERMINATED. MISSION STATUS: UNKNOWN. HOST SERVER OFFLINE.

"Nikolai?" my mother asked softly, her voice small and terrified as she stepped up behind my chair. "Did you reach him?"

I looked up at my mother, then looked across the room at my identical twin brother. The terrifying truth sat heavy in my chest, a dark shadow settling over our warm house.

"Contact lost," I whispered quietly, my voice turning cold and flat. "He is gone."