Page 81 of Hate You Most

Viktoriya’s expression didn’t soften.

“I wasn't just pretending,” Dakota said. “I didn’t invent some fake relationship after the accident, we've been together for years. You remember the start of it.”

Dakota looked at the floor briefly.

“Yes.”

“But it's true that we aren't living together anymore, and we haven't in a while. ”

“What happened?”

“We were married. You wanted a divorce, and I still haven't signed the papers. I just… I couldn't bring myself to do it. If I didn't sign, then maybe you would change your mind and we'd get back together again. It's stupid—I know, but I loved you too much to let you go without a fight.” Her cheeks were flushed.

Viktoriya could hardly look at her. The blood inside her veins were boiling. Her grip tightened around the phone again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dakota exhaled slowly.

“Because when you woke up,” she said. “You didn’t remember the divorce, you didn’t remember all of the fights we had. You didn’t remember how everything fell apart for us. You needed me, and I know that I needed you too.” There was almost no emotion in Dakota's voice as she spoke, and that was the scariest part. She wasn't angry, or sad, she seemed almost relieved to be telling Viktoriya.

“And that was… what? Convenient for you?”

Dakota flinched slightly. “Maybe.”

Viktoriya turned away fully, glancing out the open windows that stretched over the grey skyline. She wished she could be anywhere but here—wished she'd never gotten curious and had never known more than she did.

Dakota reached out helplessly with one hand. “You woke up and looked at me like I was a total stranger,” she said quietly. “I was just some person standing next to your hospital bed. And for a second I thought that was it. That everything we ever had was just gone.”

Viktoriya said nothing.

Dakota continued. “The doctor only knew what was on paper,” she said. “That we were married. Nobody knew about the divorce papers that I've refused to sign.”

Viktoriya's breath caught. “And you didn’t correct anybody.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Dakota gave a small, tired laugh. “Because for the first time in years you didn’t look at me like you hated me.” She ran a hand through her hair again. “And yeah, maybe a part of me wanted to be yours again, and maybe that's why I lied, I don't know—I'm sorry.”

Viktoriya glanced down at the phone again. All those photos and all those years.

The press had seen glimpses of something intense between them—something impossible to fully hide. But Viktoriya could tell, even without remembering it clearly, that she must have fought to keep the rest of their life private. To keep it theirs. Somehow all that effort had still ended in a divorce and in countless fights.

“You should have told me,” she said.

“I know.”

“You lied. Let me believe that we were still together.”

Dakota nodded.

Viktoriya’s chest was tight, a strange mixture of anger and something else she couldn’t quite name.

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because it felt normal.”

Viktoriya looked up. “What?”