Page 166 of Sexting the Pakhan

“What should I call him? The bleeding problem?”

“Karina.”

“Fine. I’ll be polite. The wounded disaster.”

Mila’s voice comes next, soft but excited. “Can we tell Miss Elena he had fever?”

Nadia says, “No. That is private medical information.”

Karina says, “Nadia is right. We do not share his private medical information, even though he is extremely dramatic.”

“I heard that,” I say, though my voice is rough.

The kitchen goes quiet.

Then Mila runs in. “You’re awake!” She climbs halfway onto the couch before remembering the rules and stopping herself. “I’m not lying on you.”

“I see that.”

Nadia appears behind her with her schoolbag. “You should drink water.”

Karina follows, holding both lunch boxes. “Look at him. Already being bullied by children. Nature is healing.”

Zoya comes last. Her hair is tied back. Her face is tired. She looks at me for one second too long, then looks away. “Fever is down,” she says. “Dr. Mehra said to keep taking the antibiotics.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Mila waves at me with both hands. “We’re going to school.”

“Learn something useful,” I say.

Nadia adjusts her backpack straps. “Most school things are useful if applied correctly.”

Mila adds, “Except cutting paper straight.”

Zoya says, “Go before Aunt Karina changes her mind.”

Karina kisses Zoya’s cheek, takes the girls, and leaves.

The apartment becomes quiet.

Too quiet.

Zoya goes back to her room for a meeting. I hear her voice through the half-open door, calm and professional, talking about archive indexing, duplicate entries, field corrections, and scanned records.

I drift again.

When I wake, the fever has loosened its grip. My leg still hurts, but my head is clearer.

Zoya is at the dining table now, laptop open, headset around her neck. She’s working through a spreadsheet, one hand in her hair, glasses sliding slightly down her nose.

She doesn’t know I’m awake.

I watch her for a minute. Not because I should. Because I can’t stop.

For six years, I had her in pieces. A message at midnight. A joke when she was tired. A confession she would delete before I could answer. A need she would only admit in the dark.